To Trammel Some Wild Thing
by Anon E. Mouse
Summary: To save her brother’s life, Anna makes a desperate bargain with Count Dracula and finds herself playing a dangerous game on both sides of the board. Espionage, seduction, betrayal, love triangle...AnnaDracula. Read and review please! Rating will go up.
1. The Day The World Went Away

Hi everyone! We are in the middle of a heat wave and I have no air conditioning. It's 4 AM, I can't sleep, and I'm BORED!

After being a sketchy lurker for a while I figured I'd finally try my hand at writing one of these thingies. This is my first ever fic (and my first creative writing exercise since high school…back in the Jurassic age), so be nice please! I originally planned this as a one-shot, but I started getting some ideas for an actual story. What follows below is the original one-shot. It functions here as more of a prologue--you get some hints as to what the deal will be with the longer story, but the meat of the tale really comes in in chapter 2. I hope that clears up any disconnect between this chapter and the rest of the story.

**Disclaimer:** I own diddly-squat, please don't sue me. I don't own Anna (although if I did I'd give her a talking to—choosing Van Douche-Bag over Dracula? What an idiot!), I sure as hell don't own Dracula (le sigh…), and I own none of the lines from the Two Towers that I so shamelessly borrowed (with ALL credit and respect to P-Jack, they're just so rockin'). I am just a poor grad student with a dissertation to write, students to teach, and no money to do it with. Every time you think of suing someone on this site, God kills a kitten. Please, think of the kittens.

**Prologue/Chapter 1: The Day the World Went Away  
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_Vaseria, Transylvania, 1888_

I stood at the edge of the cliff for what seemed like an eternity. _God…help us_. I saw the werewolf lunge for me, I felt my brother push me aside, and then they were gone. I watched my brother tumble over the cliff into the Danube, I watched him hit the water, I watched the splash. And I watched the last ripple, the very last thing he touched, wash ashore. A twig snapped behind me but I barely heard it. The sun was preparing to break over the Carpathians, but I did not see it; the cold fog was lifting, but I did not feel it. I saw only the empty water where my brother had vanished, and I felt only the numbness that comes from being completely alone.

"Oh, what an…_unfortunate_ accident," came a thick, deep drawl from somewhere over my right shoulder. I froze. I knew that voice and it made my blood run cold. Count Vladislaus Dracula stood behind me, his cloak open and damp along the bottom and his boots slightly muddied, as if he had been lurking in the woods for some time, waiting. "And what a tragedy for you to lose the only family you had left. So very noble of your brother to give his life for yours, my princess." He placed a cold hand on my shoulder and his lips brushed my ear. "I understand his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your father has deserted you…such a pity," he purred.

"You…" I breathed, my grief quickly turning to rage. I tried to back away, but I ended up walking straight into his arms. _Good job, Anna_.

"Of course, my dear. Were you expecting someone else?" he smirked.

"Leave me alone, snake," I spat venomously. I tried to push past him but he held my shoulders tightly, looking down at me with such arrogance and malice, and a hint of mirth. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"Oh but you _are_ alone, little princess!" he taunted me. He moved behind me to hiss in my ear again, slowly circling me like a predator advancing upon his prey. "And who knows what you have spoken to the darkness. In the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you…" his voiced dropped to a whisper as his hand reached up to grasp my chin, "like a hutch to trammel some…_wild_ thing in."

"You…you…" my breath caught in my throat and I could not speak, nor could I move. A tear escaped from my eye and I started to shake as I stared helplessly at him, this thing who had taken everything from me that I held dear. With one hand still firmly gripping my shoulder, he lifted the other to gently caress my cheek.

"So fair," he whispered, "but so cold…like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill." I stood rooted to the spot, spellbound by his voice and his touch. And although the rational part of me was repulsed and wanted to rebel against him, another more wanton and vulnerable part of me craved his comfort. His handsome face inched closer to my own and he softly pressed his icy lips to my brow. It was here that my body betrayed me and I found myself leaning into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut. His mouth dropped to my throat and he grazed his teeth lightly over my jugular, making me gasp—partly in fear, partly in unexpected, powerful desire. My heart started to pound wildly in my chest, my knees threatened to buckle under me. He snaked an arm around my waist and trailed his fingers lightly up and down my spine, embracing me, soothing me. "Shhh, there now," he breathed in my ear. I shuddered with delight as he began to place hot, open-mouthed kisses on my neck and collarbone. My mind was at war with itself. Why did I want to run from this beautiful creature that held me in its strong arms, caressed me with its soft fingers, and kissed me with its satiny lips? "And so alone, my poor, beautiful little princess," he murmured, "so alone…"

_Velkan_, I thought, and I snapped to my senses. "Your words are poison," I hissed and I shoved him away, spinning on my heels and making to run. But, before I could move more than a few steps, Dracula's vice-like fingers closed down on my wrist. Hot tears stung in my eyes as I struggled against his hold to no avail.

"Tut, tut, such manners…Where are you going to run, your highness?" he asked mockingly, yanking me behind him so that my back was to the edge of the cliff. He turned to face me, a powerful, menacing figure blocking my only escape route. I opened my mouth to scream, but he placed a long finger over my lips. "Scream if you like but it will do you no good, there is no one to mark you. What aid have you ever had? And what aid do you think will come to you now? Did you not hear me, my pet, you are alone…completely alone," the Count sneered at me. "The last of the Valerious…" he mused, "how utterly marvelous." His expression suddenly changed—while the corners of his mouth remained upturned, his eyes darkened and he looked at me deliberately and with purpose. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.

"Wh-what do you want?" I asked, my voice wavering more than I would have liked. He fastened his eyes on me and took a step forward.

"You," he replied evenly. "I want you. I want you more than anything in the world. I have wanted you since the day you were born" he said, running his large, cold hands covetously over my shoulders. "And, now that there are none left to stop me," his voice was a low husk, "I will finally have you."

"I would rather die," I spat, my tears flowing freely now.

"Ah, my love, don't be boring!" he drawled, "everyone who says that dies. And you are far too lovely for such a fate…too beautiful for such pain, such sadness." He pulled me closer and brushed away a tear from my cheek. "Perhaps," he purred seductively, "I can take that sadness away."

"Never!" I shouted at him, suddenly finding my voice. I jerked out of his hold and unsheathed my sword, my eyes flashing. "Take your hands off me, you demon!"

He just laughed indulgently, like an adult laughs at a precocious child, and gently pushed the blade aside. I suddenly felt very foolish—I knew a sword was useless against vampires and even more so against their king—but I still held my chin up proudly and glared at him. This only earned me another chuckle as he looked thoughtfully at the gap in the mountains where the sun was threatening to break through. His gaze slowly returned to me, his sapphire eyes glittering with lust and amusement, but also, it seemed, a glimmer of kindness. "But perhaps," he sighed, "that is a conversation for another time." He placed a soft, chaste kiss on my hand and bowed deeply. "My lady…" he whispered, "I will be seeing you again," and he took off into the lightening sky. I stood silently for a moment, empty water behind me, empty air in front of me. He was right. I was truly alone and, for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid. I broke down and wept.

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So…what do you all think? Should I write more? Or should I run back to the library with my tail between my legs and take my authorial frustrations out on my poor students (those who cannot do teach, right)? Review please! 


	2. A Dangerous Bargain

**'Sup bitches? You asked so I'm back! Woo! A special thanks to those who have reviewed so far: Blood-Countess-Bathory, Charmes Malheureux, Sarah M, Hell Harpie, Vicky, I am honestly floored by your responses and I'll do my best not to disappoint. You guys are awesome.  
**

**Credit:** I have to credit our favorite queen of the macabre turned born-again Christian for some of Dracula's dialogue. See if you can recognize it (answers at the end)! Credit goes to the Bard himself for bits from _Othello_ and _Hamlet_, which are italicized in the text. And finally, obviously (and this should go without saying) credit goes to Stephen Sommers for any lines from VH that I used to integrate my plot-line into the structure of the film. See the author's note below for more on such _spolia_.

**Further Disclaimers: **Again, I own nothing, ESPECIALLY not the lines I borrowed! (And if you want me to footnote in the future I'm happy to, let me know whether you prefer MLA or Chicago style ;p.)

I am rating this story T (although it may go up later). I am warning you now, in this chapter my two leads are going to get makey-outy, and it's slightly on the smutty side. **If you are offended by tonsil hockey then please don't read it, I don't want flames because I didn't write a story about Dracula and Anna playing Parcheesi. ** I should also warn you that I have _never_ written anything like this (the smut that is), so bear with me…

So, now that everything is as it should be, ladies and gentlemen, I give you…CHAPTER 2!!

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**Chapter 2: A Dangerous Bargain**

I sat huddled in a corner of the armory, mindlessly clutching a shred from the shirt that Velkan had torn from his body when he had transformed. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed four. It was too much. It had been over a week since Velkan had disappeared over the cliff-side, and I thought I had already shed my tears for my brother. For God's sake, I had already buried him—his memory, that is. After he fell I searched the river for hours, but I never found his body. His tomb in my family's vault was empty, only the name carved on its side and the sword resting on its top attested to its intended occupant. _They bore him barefaced on the bier; and on his grave rain'd many a tear._ We made a great show of bearing his empty casket through the town, offering prayers and laments—meaningless rituals, really, but they seemed to soothe the townspeople who had lost their last hope and their leader. They had loved my brother, and I knew that I would be a poor replacement. As for me, I preferred to grieve quietly and alone. I spent my days sitting by his tomb, speaking vainly to the mute, empty air inside it. I shared my plans and my strategies just like I had always done, asking his advice and clinging to the pathetic hope that he would answer. A faint, sweet scent of flowers wafted in through the broken window and I inhaled deeply. _There's rue for you; and here's some for me, we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays—O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy, I would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my brother died—they say he made a good end…_ And now to see him again or, rather, the shell of him…it was too much.

The stranger—Van Helsing was his name—callously insisted that he wasn't my brother anymore, but what did he know? And who was he to judge?! He said that he understood forgiveness, but it seemed to me that he only received it; he knew nothing of dispensing it. But I would bear the pain of knowing my brother was alive but lost to me and the shame of knowing that he had become what my family and our people had hunted so passionately, and that would be my penance. Van Helsing knew who he was and still he tried to kill him. He saw only the monster, not the man trapped inside. And though he had softened and agreed to help me look for Velkan, I could not bring myself to forgive or trust him. Ours was an uneasy truce.

He had arrived that morning in the town square eager to dazzle us with his skill and knowledge, with his papal backing and advanced weapons, believing himself capable of succeeding instantly where we had failed—he who knew nothing of Dracula when we had lived and fought with him for centuries. I admit I _was_ impressed; he had destroyed Marishka, becoming the first person to kill a vampire in over a hundred years, no mean feat. But I did not like his arrogance and presumptuousness. I thought back to Joben the gravedigger's warning that Dracula and his surviving brides would now kill in greater numbers, motivated not by hunger but by revenge. I shuddered at the thought and I hoped that this Van Helsing would not prove to be more trouble than he was worth. Some said he was a murderer, others said he was a holy man and, in truth, I could not make up my mind between them.

As I sat there, lost in thought, the candle in the lantern next to me abruptly flickered and went out. _Put out the light, and put out the light_. A sudden sound startled me and I jumped to my feet, my dagger drawn. I was in no mood for any more surprises. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of black. "Who's there?!" I shouted, "show yourself!" A blast of icy breath hit the back of my neck, making the hairs stand up on end, and a pale hand slid over my shoulder.

"I've come to answer your prayers," a familiar voice hissed close in my ear. "Life has no meaning anymore, does it? Wine has no taste, food sickens you…there seems no reason for any of it, does there?" My knife clattered to the floor. _How did he know these things? _Dracula turned me roughly to face him and he raked his long fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my face, holding my head steady as he backed me against the wall. I fearfully raised my dark eyes to meet the glacier blue of his own. "But what if I could give it back to you?" came his seductive whisper, "pluck out the pain and give you another life…one you could never imagine?" His eyes began to glow slightly and I found I could not look away. Despite the coldness of his body and breath, I suddenly felt very hot and a delicious tightness began to coil between my thighs. He bent his dark head and began to place soft kisses on my face, on my throat, and his hands traveled down and under my arms to cup my ribs, his thumbs threatening to brush over my breasts, which were, to own the truth, beginning to ache for him. I sighed involuntarily, slipping further under his spell as he continued to kiss and caress me, his lips landing everywhere but my mouth, those few defiant strands of pitch-black silk that escaped from his ponytail tickling my cheek. "And it would be for all time," he purred, burying his smooth face in the flesh of my bosom, "and sickness and death could never touch you again…don't be afraid, my beauty." His gorgeous mouth hovered inches away from my own and, God help me, I silently willed him to close the gap.

"I fear nothing," I whispered defiantly, "and I want nothing from _you_."

"Is that so?" he mused, "I think you lie." He suddenly pressed his body flush against mine so that I could feel his need between my legs, his rampant desire stroking the flames of my own, causing me to inhale sharply. "You do know, my dear, that lying is a sin…" he cooed, kneading my breasts gently with selfish hands, his eyes glimmering when he felt them respond to his touch. _Why was I allowing this?_ My head felt foggy as he ran his cool tongue over my lips, moistening them for me.

"Count…" I breathed. But it was too late for protests or misgivings. He seized my face aggressively and brought his mouth crushing down on mine. My mind whirled and I momentarily forgot my grief over Velkan, the stranger upstairs who would help me to avenge him, and the demon before me who was responsible for it all. All I could think of were these kisses that promised to wash away my pain and this dark angel who so readily bestowed them upon me. His tongue begged entrance and I allowed it. He selfishly plundered my mouth, roughly exploring every crevice, making sinful love to my lips with his tongue as his hands roamed freely over the curves of my body, stopping occasionally to lustfully cup my hip, my breast, teasing me. He drew my lower lip into his mouth and bit down lightly, seeming to delight in my gasp of pain and pleasure. His kisses were savage, demanding, and passionate and I was horrified to find myself responding with equal fervor, caressing his beautiful tongue with my own, wrapping my arms around his neck, and twining my fingers in his sleek hair. He growled deep within his chest and ground his hips up against mine, allowing me to feel more clearly the effect I was having on his body and I groaned in spite of myself as his need dug into me. All reason screamed at me to push him away and run, but I found I could not bring myself to move. "Please…" I whimpered against his mouth.

"Do you like my touch so much, my princess?" he husked, pressing his open mouth to my quivering jaw, "shall I stop?"

_No_, my body cried, even as I sought desperately to regain control of the situation and of myself. And, however much I wished it, I could not move for the world. He smirked and seized my lips in another bruising kiss that left me panting for air.

"I thought as much," he murmured smugly, releasing my lips, drawing his head back to look me full in the face, a sly, self-satisfied grin beginning to creep across that lovely mouth, "I have yet to meet the woman who can refuse me and all the…_pleasures_ I would give her." He gave my aching breasts one last squeeze and stepped back, surveying his handiwork. My hair and clothes were disheveled, my breathing labored, my face flushed, and my lips were swollen from his kisses. My mind was my own again and I was livid. Truth be told, I _had_ enjoyed his touch, his kisses, and his attentions, and this realization made me even angrier. And to make it worse, he knew it. He knew I wanted him just like all the countless other women he had successfully seduced and ruined. Dracula just cocked a brown and smirked at me with an odd mixture of desire and disdain, "a shame, my dear, really…I would have thought you to be so much stronger than the rest. Pity, I do so love a challenge." I spat in his face.

"Why are you here?" I snapped. "Are you come to avenge the loss of your whore, Count?"

"Don't you have a sharp tongue…too sharp for such a well-born_ lady_," he sneered coldly, wiping his cheek delicately with a long finger. "You should mind how you address me, your highness, and take care not to try my patience; I am not a forgiving man. I do not take kindly to the destruction of my property, and even less to those who would make light of it."

The Count stepped into a patch of moonlight, removing his cloak and ceremoniously draping it over a chair, and I took in his appearance. I had never looked fully at him before. He did cut a dashing figure, I grudgingly acknowledged. Dracula had been a great general when he was alive, my father had told me, as well as a prince, and he certainly dressed the part: a black military dress coat over tailored black breeches and leather boots. His waistcoat was black velvet and brocade and his shirt, also black, looked to be of the finest Chinese silk. Silver cufflinks peeked from under the sleeves of his coat and a pair of silver hoops adorned his ears. Breeding was written into every line of his well-muscled body. His movements were powerful and controlled, yet languid; he moved with the careless authority and lazy grace of someone accustomed to being obeyed. He certainly didn't _look_ like the monster my father had so often described. No…he was beautiful. His face resembled chiseled alabaster, with high cheekbones framed by a few hanging strands of ink black hair. The rest of his long, silky tresses were pulled back in an elegant silver clasp. His nose was long and sharp, his eyebrows gently arched, his soft lips slightly thin but perfect. Perfect for kissing. But it was his eyes that caught me. They were large and luminous, and of the darkest, deepest blue I had ever seen. I wanted to lose myself in them, to dive headfirst into the inviting pools of sapphire, and it took all the willpower I could muster to look away. The blue was beautiful, but dangerous; I knew what those eyes could do. I shook my head violently. He was Nosferatu, an inhuman monster, my sworn enemy, not a lover to take to bed, and it enraged me that he had such power over me.

"You stare, highness," came his rich, arrogant drawl, rousing me from my thoughts, "tell me, do you see something you like?"

"I desire no man," I glared at him, blushing furiously, silently cursing both him and myself.

"Ah, my lovely Anna, but I am no man…" he laughed. "And believe me, princess, the day will soon come when I will touch you and you will beg for my favors." He trailed a bold hand leisurely across my chest and over my stomach as if to prove his point and I shivered, my body calling out for him against my better judgment. _Damn him_.

"You make my skin crawl," I said through gritted teeth as he moved behind me, taking my suddenly useless arms in his masterful hands.

"That is not all I could do with your skin," he dug his face into my neck, his hands sliding over my waist in a demanding caress. "Believe me, I could do so much more…would you like me to show you?" This was torture unlike any I had ever endured and I struggled inwardly to remind myself that the hands that pleased me were stained with my brother's blood and that of countless other members of my family, and that it was to _them_ that I had pledged my allegiance.

"Remove your hand," I said icily, stepping out of his hold, "the woman in me may bend to your seductions, but I refuse to be a puppet on your string. You have two brides to sate your lusts, Count, you are wasting your time with me. I will _never_ be yours, do you hear me? Nothing you could offer would ever tempt me. Go home to your whores."

The grin faded from his handsome features only to be replaced by a dark, purposeful glare. His manner and his stance changed; his body tensed and his tone became brusque and malevolent. "Is that so?" he said quietly, "tell me, my dear, is this stranger who sleeps upstairs a suitable replacement for your brother? How sad the young prince shall be when I tell him that he has been so easily cast aside and forgotten. Or perhaps…yes, perhaps you find in the hunter's arms the kind of love a brother could never give you?" His voice dripped with sadism.

"You mock my pain!" Tears stung in my eyes. How I hated him!

"No indeed, highness, quite the opposite, in fact. I think we might help each other," he said simply.

I don't know what I had expected him to say, but that certainly wasn't it. "I beg your pardon?" I spat, "I don't need any help. And I certainly won't help you, not for the world!"

"Oh?" came his casual reply, "not even for your beloved brother?"

"What are you saying…?" I asked slowly.

"My dear girl, it pains me that you know and think so little of me," he sighed. "Did you know, for example, that as a young man I developed a keen interest in alchemy? That I, in fact, excelled at it?" He paused. "No…no, you think, I imagine, that I care only for carnage and carnal appetites. And I do—care for them, that is—but I am not without other pursuits. A truly _accomplished _gentleman ought to have many pursuits, wouldn't you agree, princess?"

"Get to the point, Dracula," I snapped. I was quickly losing patience with his teasing.

"As you wish," he said, bowing his head in mock chivalry "_my lady_. During the course of my studies I made a discovery that I believe may be of some interest to you: a cure for your brother's…_condition_. And I will give it to you, my princess, for a price."

"And what would that be, my body?" I asked bitterly, although I could not deny that I would have done practically anything to have Velkan restored to me. Rumor had long had it that Dracula possessed a cure to the supernatural disease and, now that it was a reality and within my grasp, I would stop at nothing to get it, even if it meant making a bargain with the devil himself. I had lost my brother once and the pain was unbearable, I would not lose him again, not when I could save him.

"Tempting, my love, but I have never been in the habit of taking unwilling partners," he drawled, clearly relishing my desperation. "Do not mistake me, I _will_ have you eventually, but not under such…_strained_ circumstances. _When_ you come to me it will be your choice, and then I will be only too happy to make you mine. No, my dear, what I am proposing is a trade: your brother for the stranger. Deliver him to me and I will give you the antidote."

I was flabbergasted. It seemed too easy, too unbalanced in my favor. What were those two hiding from me that the hunter should be of such value to the Count? "What is Van Helsing to you?" I asked suspiciously.

"That, your highness, is none of your concern," came his swift reply. "Let us simply say that I have a…score to settle with him."

But I was still wary and I continued to press him. "And how can I trust that once you have him you will not refuse your side of the deal?"

"Call me old-fashioned, princess, but unlike your precious Van Helsing, to whom, as he himself said, the laws of men mean little, I am a creature of honor, and I keep my word. So, do we have an agreement?"

I nodded stiffly.

"Then let us shake hands and seal the bargain," he smiled richly and extended a pallid hand. I hesitated for a minute before I took it and he closed his fingers firmly over my palm before drawing my hand to his lips, making me grimace. Releasing it, he continued, his words rapid and his voice low: "You will keep me informed of his movements and communications. I want to know everywhere he goes, and everything he says, I want to know to whom he speaks and who speaks to him." He paused and took a deep breath, fixing me with narrowed eyes. "You will bring him to Castle Frankenstein tomorrow night, telling him that you wish to look there for your brother. I trust it goes without saying that you are not to breathe a word of our meeting tonight to him or to his _pious_ companion. And I must warn you, my dear, that if you try to cross me, the consequences would be…regrettable. Should either Van Helsing or my cure disappear, I will have no difficulty dispatching your brother and keeping you for myself. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly."

"Good." Again that acid smile. He began to back away towards the open window, seizing his cloak from the chair and wrapping it around his shoulders with a flourish. "Until tomorrow then, my sweet. It has been a pleasure doing business with you," he said smoothly. "And princess?" he looked me up and down lasciviously and smirked, "pleasant dreams…" and with that he vanished into the night.

Thus concludes chapter 2, so, please, **review, review, review!**

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**Ch. 2 Author's Notes: **

"Joben" is Romanian for "top hat," the name given to the gravedigger in the film.

The lines spoken by D. Diddy at the beginning of his conversation with Anna were originally spoken by Lestat in the film of _Interview with the Vampire_. They struck me as particularly appropriate for our aristocratic bloodsucker, especially since they parallel his offer to Gabriel at the end of VH. I borrowed them (and all other _spolia_) out of respect, not out of dishonesty or a lack of originality. I hope that's cool. The _Lord of the Rings_ stuff in the first chapter was, actually, the reason I started writing this story. I was watching _The Two Towers_ the other night and thought, during that scene with Wormtongue and Eowyn, what Dracula-esque lines they were. I started imagining how and under what circumstances he'd say them, and decided I'd try to write a scene around them. I know their appearance was pretty "obvious," but that was kind of the point. (The _Interview_ lines are also, I know, very obvious and this is probably the last time I'll go that route. This was another case of "oh wow those lines would be so perfect here.")

On a different note, I am posting this story as I write it, so I apologize if, at times, it takes me a while to update. I'm still working out the mechanics of everything and I'll do my best to juggle this and all my other responsibilities.

And now…back to work. It's amazing how many scholarly journals now have full-text archives online. JSTOR forever! I love the internet! The internet is really, really great—

**Dracula:** For porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Dracula?? What the hell? Where the fuck did you come from???

**Dracula:** Watch your language, young lady. If you are going to write one of these stories properly then you will be in need of a muse, will you not?

**Anon E. Mouse** Whatever. --glares-- Ahem. I've got a fast connection, so I don't have to wait—

**Dracula:** For porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Huh? There's always some new site—

**Dracula:** For porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** I browse all day and night—

**Dracula:** For porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** It's like I'm surfing at the speed of light!

**Dracula:** FOR PORN!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Count!!

**Dracula:** The internet is for porn

**Anon E. Mouse:** Count, I mean it!

**Dracula:** The internet is for porn

**Anon E. Mouse:** What are you doing?!

**Dracula:** Why do you think the net was born? Porn, porn, porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** VLADISLAUS DRACULEA!!

**Dracula:** Oh, good evening to you too, my dear.

**Anon E. Mouse:** You are _ruining_ my story.

**Dracula:** Do forgive me, domnişoarǎ I did not mean to…intrude. --smirks--

**Anon E. Mouse:** Well, if you wouldn't mind please being quiet for a minute so I can finish?

**Dracula:** I am as silent as the grave…

**Anon E. Mouse:** Um, good. --clears throat-- I'm glad we have this new technology—

**Dracula:** For porn!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Which gives us untold opportunity—

**Dracula:** For por—oops, sorry.

**Anon E. Mouse:** Right from your own desktop

**Dracula:** For—

**Anon E. Mouse:** You can research, browse, and shop, until you've had enough and you're ready to stop

**Dracula:** FOR PORN!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Vladislaus, that is IT…

**Dracula:** The internet is for porn

**Anon E. Mouse:** Noooo!

**Dracula:** The internet is for porn

**Anon E. Mouse:** Knock it off!

**Dracula:** I'm up all night honking my horn to porn, porn, PORN!

**Anon E. Mouse:** That's gross, you're a pervert.

**Dracula:** Ah, sticks and stones, my love --his hands start to get friendly--

**Anon E. Mouse:** --slaps him away-- NO, really, you're a pervert. Normal people don't sit at home and look at porn on the internet.

**Dracula:** Ohhhh? You don't think so, my pet? Well, why don't we ask your lovely, normal readers? Ready, normal people?

**Anon E. Mouse:** Vladislaus, that is ENOUGH out of YOU! Go to your coffin. NOW!! --Dracula slinks out of the room, scowling and muttering under his breath--

Great. I ask for a muse and I get a narcissistic, juvenile nymphomaniac. Sorry about him, everyone. It appears our little friend has a problem with—how to put this kindly—_impulse_ control. Please review while I go see about setting up the parental controls on my computer…

(Credit for the musical number goes to Avenue Q. Best. Show. Ever. The song is "The Internet is for Porn," performed by Kate Monster and Trekkie.)


	3. Spinning a Web

**Top of the morning to you all!** This chapter is the result of over 72 hours of continuous work and the next one may take longer. I'm writing as fast as I can, so please bear with me. :) And please forgive me for being a little loopy--I seriously haven't slept in 3 days.

Since my story involves basically re-writing the movie with an Anna-Dracula subplot, this chapter sticks fairly close to the film. Look for more variation in coming chapters (I promise)! I'm sorry to say there is next to no Dracula today, although he'll be back in the next installment. I originally had a narrator's POV scene in the lab where he taunts Velkan about his plans for Anna, but I cut it for length and consistency of narrative. If people really want it, I can put it back in.

When I was reading reviews from the last chapters and preparing to write this one, I did a lot of thinking about Dracula and Anna—who they are, what motivates them, what scenarios are (not) feasible, etc. I started to jot down some notes and ended up writing a sort of short critical essay. It's closer to academic writing (my comfort zone!), but I put a lot of thought into it so I decided to share it here. I've put it at the very end so that those of you who aren't into that sort of thing don't have to read it.

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**Thank You:** Blood-Countess-Bathory, Sarah M., Ethereal Void (oui super! Vive la France!), Shoysrock, Lorien Urbani, ForeverACharmedOne, and Charmes Malheureux (a heroic effort!)—you are all fabulous. Seriously, I _really_ appreciate y'all taking the time to review, it means a lot. 

**Disclaimers:** I own zilch! This is just for fun/procrastination. All credit to Stephen Sommers for characters and lines from the VH screenplay. This chapter (alas?) demanded that I incorporate a lot of them.

**On the First-Person:** As reviewers noted, writing in the first person is _really_ bloody hard and I admit I'm having a very rough time with Anna. Stephen Sommers wrote her character, I think deliberately, with very little emotional life. She's a bottler. She's insular and introverted; she denies her feelings both to others and to herself ("I would wish for it no other way…I will see them again…etc."). The only emotion that Anna seems to experience on a regular basis is anger (and occasionally grief). But even then, she does not think about or discuss these feelings. She often speaks in generalizations and her way of thinking is largely detached and analytical. The bulk of her emoting is done on the subconscious level. Like Dracula, ironically, Anna appears to believe that emotions make one weak. She has been through hell and is in a state of deep denial as a coping mechanism. If she stops to think about what has happened to her and her family, she will break.

The beauty/purpose of the first-person is that it gives a complete and in-depth look at a character's thoughts, emotions, and reactions. Anna shuts off that part of herself and, accordingly, telling her story from her point of view is a difficult task: how can we exploit the intimacy of the first-person while remaining true to the character? How do we relate the feelings of a character who does not allow herself to feel? Third-person narrators are omniscient and they can easily access the contents of a character's subconscious. In the first-person, however, we are looking through the character's eyes and are thus restricted to their conscious mind; we can access only the feelings and thoughts that they admit to having. I'm trying to give Anna more of a range of emotional experience, but I have to keep her discomfort with _feeling_ in there too. So yeah, I'm having a hard time…

Alright, enough of that. On to chapter 3:

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**Chapter 3: Spinning a Web**

It was near dawn and the house was silent. I lay in bed unable to sleep. I was horrified by what I had done and by what I had let him do. After Dracula had departed I had thrown myself into the bath, scrubbing franticly to remove all traces of him on my body—the marks from his lips, his scent—but I felt like I would never be clean enough. My lips still throbbed from his kisses and my skin burned from his touch. No man had ever touched me like that before or made me feel so desired. And I wanted him now even as I despised him. I had never felt so used, so defiled, or so disgusted with myself. This was the secret to his power, I thought miserably, that I should clutch him to me even as I endeavored to hurl him away.

But, worst of all, my conscience nagged at me for the bargain I had made, the terms I had agreed to, and the partner with whom I had bartered. I had made a compact with the devil, a voice inside my head chided me, _you are no better than the monster you consort with_. And then the voice became my father's, my brother's, _and soon you will join his side. You have betrayed us, Anna. You will hand the hunter over to him and then you will become his whore._

_No! I am doing this for us, Velkan, for our family! I cannot face him alone! I cannot destroy him by myself, Velkan, I need you…_ My God, what had I done?

As a small child, when I was wakeful during the night, I used to creep out of my room and into Velkan's. I would crawl under his covers and he would tell me stories about princesses and goblins, knights and dragons, witches, fairies, and wizards until, at last, I drifted off to sleep, snuggled against his chest. Now I was in the middle of a nightmare I could not wake from, and my big brother was not there to comfort me. I curled up on my side, and hugged my pillow tightly. _Once upon a time,_ I narrated for myself,_ there was a beautiful princess who lived with her brother at the edge of a great forest…_

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When I awoke it was mid-morning and the sun was streaming through my windows, making patterns on the floor. Cursing, I leapt out of bed and began dressing hurriedly. My father always frowned upon "lying about," as he put it; Velkan and I were accustomed to rising with the sun. How ashamed they would be if they knew that I had grown so soft in their absence! I paused at the mirror and frowned at my reflection, examining my body from all sides. I pulled my hair away from my neck and peered closely at it, at my face, my mouth, my chest. Would Van Helsing be able to tell? Would he know what I'd done the night before and with whom? About the horrible bargain that I had made? Would he know that his life was forfeit? I had heard once that he could sense evil like a dog smells fear and I prayed, for both Velkan's and my sakes, that my treachery, insofar as it was, would go undetected.

"You've never gone after vampires before, now have you?" I heard Carl squeak from the dining room. I hadn't spent much time with Carl the night before. After I had brought him and Van Helsing back to the manor, he had disappeared almost immediately into the archives, searching for information on Dracula. But, despite having only exchanged a few words with the bookish young friar, I was beginning to warm to him already. He was so different from his companion; he was open where Van Helsing was reserved, curious where Van Helsing was focused. While the bounty hunter approached his job with a certain disaffected weariness, Carl, despite his terror, seemed to marvel at encountering these creatures that he had before only read about in books. I secretly envied his innocence.

"Vampires, gargoyles, warlocks, they're all the same: best when cooked well," came Van Helsing's gruff reply. I snorted. Clearly his tussle with Marishka, Aleera, and Verona the day before had taught him nothing. I wondered how he would describe the battle to his superiors, with what ease he would say he had won. No doubt I would feature in his narrative as the damsel in distress, cowering in the corner as he swooped in and effortlessly dispatched Dracula's youngest bride. _Men…_

"No, they're not all the same," Carl insisted impatiently, "a vampire is nothing like a warlock. My granny could kill a warlock." I suppressed another snigger.

"Is that so, Carl? Funny, I don't remember you being so brave last night. What was it you said when we realized there was a werewolf in the house? I couldn't hear you because you were diving under the divan," Van Helsing teased good-naturedly.

"I told you I wasn't a field man!" the friar protested, "but no, no one ever listens to me. 'Go to Transylvania, Carl,' 'go get eaten by vampires, Carl,' 'what's that, Carl? You've been torn to pieces by a werewolf and your mangled body is strewn across the Carpathians? Oh well, design us some new weapons anyway.' My abbot would _not_ approve of this, Van Helsing! It's not Christian!"

"Good morning, gentlemen," I said from the doorway, "I trust you slept well?" They sat at one end of the long oak dining table, the remnants of what had clearly been a hearty breakfast strewn out between them. Bread, cheese, sausages, even fried chicken livers and some eggs, I noted, feeling suddenly ravenous. I had never had to play hostess before and I was glad to see that while I had been selfishly sleeping the morning away, the servants had not neglected my guests.

"As well as could be expected after last night's excitements," Van Helsing replied, absent-mindedly fiddling with his revolver.

"Yes, thank you," Carl piped in.

"Please excuse me for neglecting you this morning, I never sleep so late. It won't happen again." I helped myself to some food and sat down, pouring a liberal cup of coffee. It burned in my throat as I gulped it down.

"Perfectly understandable," Van Helsing assured me, raising his warm brown eyes up to meet my own, a small smile warming his stern features, "you had a rough night." A knot formed in my stomach as I thought about what I was to do that evening. I hadn't expected kindness or understanding from him and it made my task much harder to swallow. I forced a smile.

After we had breakfasted and taken whatever weapons we required from the armory, Van Helsing and I left Carl to his studies in the library and set out through the woods on horseback. It was a crisp autumn day and the leaves were just starting to turn spectacular shades of orange, yellow, and red. The forest had always been a place for fighting, running, and killing, I had forgotten how beautiful it could be. "What exactly are we looking for?" I asked. Van Helsing made no reply, and when I looked over, I found him several yards behind me, crouched down next to the fresh tracks of what appeared to be a large animal. He picked up some soil from the center of one of the prints, teasing it between his fingers, and sniffed it.

"Your brother was here, about…six hours ago." He stood up, straightening his long coat, and placed his outlandish fedora back on his head. I had never seen a hat like that before, but somehow it seemed to suit him. "I hope for your sake that we're not too late," he said, fingering his gun. As I turned around something tawny stuck to a nearby bush caught my eye and, leaping from my horse, I rushed over to it. It was fur—wolf's fur—and it was new. I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest like something precious. Van Helsing looked at me quizzically.

"We're _not_ too late! Werewolves only shed before their first full moon," I explained excitedly, "before the curse has fully consumed them." _There was still hope._

We continued on for several hours, occasionally finding more tracks, more clumps of fur. I knew where we were going, but I could not let on. Luckily my brother had come this way too, and I could give the appearance of following his trail rather than Dracula's instructions.

"And you pursued this Mr. Hyde all the way to Paris?" I asked. Van Helsing had been recounting the bizarre details of his last assignment.

"Yes," he replied, "and a nasty piece of work he was too…he managed to smash one of the rose windows in the cathedral there before I could finish him."

"He desecrated the house of God?" I was appalled. "Saints preserve us…"

"He desecrated more than that…a grand total of twelve men, six women, four children, three goats, and a rather nasty massacre of poultry. Most unpleasant fellow…"

"But how?" I wondered, "I thought you said that Dr. Jekyll was a mild-mannered man?

"Yes, but where Dr. Jekyll was gentle and unimposing, Mr. Hyde was a deranged psychopath, over ten feet tall, and stronger than five men." Van Helsing shook his head. "I saw no difficulty in killing him and calling it a day, although my superiors wanted me to take him alive," he scoffed.

"Why?" I gasped, horrified that anyone should want to preserve such a villain.

"They wanted to attempt to extricate his better half," he said disinterestedly, "they were convinced that Dr. Jekyll was still buried somewhere inside Hyde's mania."

"Like my brother…" I said softly.

"I suppose," he replied awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. _Serves him right_, I thought, but I sought to change the subject.

"And before that? Where else did this order of yours send you?"

"Ah yes, before that they sent me to Sussex to bring in the Invisible Man."

"Invisible?" I asked incredulously.

"Completely. Under his clothes, the bandages on his face, and the goggles on his eyes there was nothing. He had killed and eaten over twenty people, including a policeman, before I arrived." _Eaten?_ I crossed myself.

"What in God's name…" I whispered.

"It's true…he hoped that by consuming their organs and flesh, his own would regenerate. His father killed himself when he saw what his son had become."

"But how did you catch him if you couldn't see him?"

"Being invisible didn't make him any less solid," he said, grinning. I was starting to feel uneasy. I had thought Van Helsing fairly clueless until that point, his victory over Marishka the result of blind luck and a steady aim, but perhaps I had misjudged him. Dracula may have met his match in this arrogant bounty hunter. Given his skill and the right circumstances, who knew which way the balance would tip? He had single-handedly destroyed a homicidal giant and an invisible foe. Perhaps he would destroy Dracula as well, and before I could get my hands on his cure. Perhaps I had made the wrong choice in temporarily allying with the Count: the vampire would be vanquished, my family redeemed, but what of my brother? I knew the only guarantee for his safety lay in upholding the deal I had made. Once he was cured, Velkan and I could defeat Dracula together. But when I considered the possibility that Van Helsing might emerge victorious, and remembered that he too had promised to help me look for the antidote, it was hard to choose.

The solution that crept into my head then was so simple I could not believe it hadn't occurred to me until that moment. I would not choose at all. Why choose between them when one thought me bound to him in a treaty, the other in a common purpose? I would play both ends against the middle, serving both while serving only myself, and when the balance tipped, I would tip with it. "Most impressive," I smiled at him.

By the time we reached the outbuildings of Castle Frankenstein, the sun had disappeared behind the mountain ridges and the moon was peeking over the tree-tops. Thick storm clouds were moving in from the north and I heard the occasional, distant rumble of thunder. We had been riding in silence for some time, but now we spoke of our present errand and Van Helsing's journey to Transylvania. I had related as much as I knew of my family's feud with Dracula, the tortures we had endured at his hands. I found myself wondering what drove Van Helsing to do the things he did, why he so relentlessly pursued the creatures whose destruction led to his own denouncement as a murderer. What about _his_ family? How did they react to seeing their kinsman's face plastered on wanted posters across Europe? "For me this is all personal," I explaned, "it is all about family and honor. Why do you do it, this job of yours? What do you hope to get out of it?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, "perhaps some self-realization."

"What have you got out of it so far?" I pressed him. He looked pained for a minute. His reply was barely audible.

"Nightmares…what is this place?" We were entering the castle courtyard. Above us a light appeared at a window, and I saw sparks flying from the top of the tower.

"Castle Frankenstein," I replied as casually as possible, "but it should be abandoned. I don't understand, the man who lived here was killed a year ago. Grave robber, among other things." I shuddered remembering our horror when we had discovered what the foreigner was doing in this place, the nature of his peculiar experiments, the monster he had created. _What did Van Helsing know about the English scientist_, I wondered, _and what was the Count doing here now?_

"A year ago? It's just after that that your father went missing." I drew a deep breath and swallowed hard. I usually tried not to think about my father. When the letters had stopped coming Velkan had assumed the worst, but I refused to discuss it. Dead or alive, we would see him again; it did no good to dwell on it.

"Yes," I said softly, my voice wavering somewhat. I struggled to get a hold of myself. "He was looking for Dracula, he was on his way to the sea…" I felt suddenly wistful.

"Really?" Van Helsing's reply sounded strangely far off.

"…I've never been to the sea. I bet it's beautiful." I had often wondered what it must be like to stand at the water's edge and imagine the foreign shores hidden beyond the horizon, to look out and see nothing but an endless stretch of blues and greens. My father had always promised that one day he would take me to see it.

Just then a flash of light and a crash from inside the castle roused me from my thoughts. It was time. Van Helsing and I looked meaningfully at one another and, tying our horses to a hitching post, we cautiously entered through a side door. Darkness engulfed us. Somewhere above us we heard raised voices and the roar of machinery. We advanced slowly through the gloom, the occasional lightning bolt from the storm that had finally broken outside illuminating deserted halls and decrepit furniture, all covered with dust and shimmering cobwebs. As we rounded a corner I saw four squat, troll-like figures trudging a ways down the corridor, carrying several lengths of what looked to be electrical cables and grunting amongst themselves. I reached out to hold Van Helsing back before they saw us and clamped a gloved hand over his mouth. "Dwergi!" I whispered.

"Dwergi?" He looked puzzled.

"Dracula's servants," I explained in a hushed tone, "industrious but extremely vicious. If you get a chance to kill one, _do it_, because they will do worse to you." We were about to step forward again when I heard one of those revolting little creatures say my brother's name. I froze in my tracks, listening, and what I heard horrified me. "They say they're using my brother in some sort of experiment!" I was panicked, what were they doing to him? Did Dracula mean to betray me after all and gift me with my brother's corpse? I began to rush forward, "Velkan is still battling the sickness within him," I cried, "there is still hope!"

"No, Anna," it was Van Helsing's turn to grab me roughly and hold me back, gripping my shoulders tightly as I stared at him in angry disbelief, "there is no hope for your brother…but we can still protect others by killing Dracula!" _That's what you think,_ I thought, shaking free of his hold. I knew my brother was alive and I had with me the price for his cure. _Oh, my friend,__if only you knew that's what you are…_

The Dwergi had long disappeared down the corridor when we set forward again. I heard the Count's inhuman bellow echoing through the halls. "Let us begin!" he roared. We needed to move now and quickly. We crossed through shadowy corridors and deserted rooms, climbing steadily upward towards the crackling of electricity and the snarl of Dracula's voice, when we entered a room quieter than the rest. All sound was muffled in there and it was pitch black. I reached out to touch the wall and felt something soft and sticky. I jumped back, recoiling my hand, and at that instant a flash of lightening revealed a sight that made my blood run cold. We were in the doorway of a large hall, and hanging from the rafters and the masonry, all across the ceiling and down the walls, were hundreds of large cocoons. They were a sickly green and scaly, oozing some sort of fluid, and in and out of each one snaked cables identical to the ones the Dwergi had been carrying. The entire room reeked of death.

"Have you ever seen one of these before?" Van Helsing asked warily.

"No," I shook my head. The stench was beginning to affect me. "What do you think they are?

"Offspring," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" I gasped. I felt suddenly sick.

"A man with three gorgeous women for four hundred years…" _Of course. _ My mind was reeling. How could we have been so stupid? This was the answer to all the riddles. This was what Victor Frankenstein was doing in Transylvania, so far from his native land. This was why Dracula occupied his castle now. We had not realized just how _unnatural_ the life was that the doctor had been trying to create. We had not been fighting a new monster when we had stormed the fortress the year before; the monster had been the same all along.

"Vampires are the walking dead," I said numbly, my voice shaking as I tried to overcome the shock. "It only makes sense that their children would be born dead. My God, he's…" I broke off, unable to speak the awful truth.

"He's obviously trying to bring them to life," Van Helsing finished the thought, running his hand along one of the wires. "Ladies first," he said, and he gestured me forward. I did my best to put one foot in front of the other as we pushed our way through a veritable forest of those ghastly things. As disgusted and horrified as I was, I had to find Dracula…and my brother. A hideous notion suddenly occurred to me. The Dwergi had said that Dracula was using Velkan in some kind of experiment, was he to give his life to the Count's children? Why were we dallying in this fetid nursery when my brother was in danger? I pushed blindly onward. Van Helsing was talking to himself…or was he talking to me? I couldn't tell. I could barely think straight. "Dracula and his brides kill only one or two people a month," I thought I heard him say through the fog in my head, "if he brings all these things to life…" He was interrupted by a sudden flash of light, a powerful current surged along the wires, electrifying each of those horrible sacs, and above the roar and snapping of the charge I heard Velkan's anguished scream. We were too late.

The sacs tingled and glimmered with electricity. Cautiously, we moved towards a few of them. And then they began to move. They palpitated weakly at first, and then their pulsing became gradually stronger, as if they were beating hearts…as if they were breathing. To my astonishment and disgust, Van Helsing removed a glove with his teeth and reached for one of them. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I want to see what we're up against," he said blithely, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Was he mad? He grabbed a hold of the cocoon and dug his fingers into its soft, putrid flesh. A lot of viscous, pus-colored slime squirted out of the wound he created and I turned away, swallowing hard, and prayed I wouldn't be sick. He was pulling out clumps of tissue and membrane, and more and more of that nauseating liquid until he finally created a hole large enough for him to thrust his whole hand in. "So this is what you get when vampires mate," he murmured thoughtfully, reaching towards something wrinkly and grey deep inside the sac.

Suddenly its eyes popped open and it lunged at us, revealing a gaping mouth full of sharp teeth. I shrieked and jumped back. Neither of us was prepared for what happened next. One by one each of the sacs burst open and the air was soon thick with hundreds of those things. They were the foulest beasts I had ever seen: they resembled bats and gargoyles somewhat, with large, human-like heads. Their ears were pointed, their tails long and reptilian, and their little hands and feet were sheathed in black talons. They let out demonic shrieks as they took flight, baring their razor-like fangs. We backed into a shadowy corner and stared in horror: Dracula's children lived.

I struggled to get a hold of myself. I had come here for Velkan and he was somewhere in the castle suffering. I had to find him. So gradually, stealthily, I began to edge away from Van Helsing and towards the stairs.

"This is where I come in," he abruptly shouted, leaping out of our hiding place and ripping his gun from its holster. He began to move forward, shooting Dracula's vile offspring out of the air. I took that as permission to leave and search for my brother. As I turned, I saw the Count come to the edge of the balcony overlooking the chamber, clearly drawn by the sound of gunshots and the cries of his young, his face twisted in rage. Our eyes met for a split second and I nodded curtly to him before I exited the room, leaving Van Helsing to face him alone. I should have felt guilty, but all I could think about was Velkan and I prayed that God would forgive me. I ran quickly up the steps, trying not to look back as Dracula dove over the balcony and took flight.

After what seemed like hours of tearing through maze-like corridors and up staircases, I heard the hoarse croak of Dr. Frankenstein's old servant, Igor, ahead of me and saw the flash of flying sparks. Of course, in truth, he had been Dracula's servant all along, I thought bitterly. How could we all have been so blind? I moved out warily into a patch of light and found myself overlooking the laboratory towards the top of the tower. Unlike the rest of the castle, this room had clearly been in continuous use since the doctor's death. The hideous hunchback was shuffling back and forth, rasping orders at the Dwergi that ran about pulling switches and checking dials. "Hurry up!" he grunted, "we must keep the atmosphere electrified! Accelerate the generators, power the dynamos!" The scaffolding on which I stood wrapped around the room's perimeter and was hung with gas lanterns, the entire space was filled with wires and machines. I frantically scanned the room, but there was no sign of my brother. "We are losing power!" Igor wheezed, looking up towards the ceiling, "the human is insufficient."

_Human?_ I forced myself to follow his gaze. At the top of the tower, exposed to the elements and bolted to a metal rack, was Velkan. Electricity from frequent lightning bolts surged through him and he howled in agony. I ran as quickly and quietly as I could around the walkway, searching frantically for a way up. I noticed a rope in the center, hanging from the skylight down into a large tub of bubbling water. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was too far to jump. Out of the corner of my eye I saw two Dwergi coming at me from both sides. Another scurried down from above. I could not delay another second and so I hurled myself over the side, grabbing the rope and holding on for dear life. They leapt after me and I mustered all the strength I had to pull them from the rope, watching nasty things fall into the seething water below. Once I was free of them, I began to climb. I saw Igor below me, rushing to the tub and looking around in confusion. "We must not lose the master's progeny!" he bellowed as I continued to haul myself towards my brother, who was convulsing and wailing in pain.

At last I reached him. He was bloodied and bruised but he was alive. His hair was plastered to his sweat-streaked face and his body trembled from the shocks he had endured. "Velkan!" I cried and I ran to him, taking his soiled cheeks in my hands.

"Anna?" he gasped wonderingly, looking up at me. Tears sprung to my eyes as I began hastily undoing the straps and ties that held him down. In that moment I didn't care that I had just handed the Vatican's avenger into the jaws of death or that I had bargained with the Devil's son, my brother was alive and I was going to take him home.

My brief reverie was shattered when Velkan seized my wrists, prying them from him and pushing me away. "No! No, no, no, don't unstrap me! Don't unstrap me!" he rasped. I didn't understand. Just three more restraints and he would be free!

"Velkan, it's alright," I tried to reassure him, "I made a—Dracula, he has a cure, I can—"

"NO!" he cut me off, thrusting me from him, "You must not! No! Stop!" Why was he doing this? Did he not realize I was there to help him?

"No, stop it, Velkan, it's alright," I tried again, "I'm getting you out of here! I'm taking you home—" but my words were stifled when his hand clamped down on my mouth, squeezing with inhuman strength. And then I realized why he had begged me to leave him be: the moon was out, and it had just slipped from behind the clouds. I watched, terrified, as the hand on my face sprouted thick fur and his fingernails grew into long claws. Wrenching myself free, I stumbled back a few steps and watched, rooted in horror, as he began to undergo that hideous transformation that I had witnessed just the night before. Velkan's mild green eyes glowed an unholy yellow, his pupils shrinking to tiny pinpoints. His handsome face was twisted into a grimace as his skin twitched and pulsed. A long snout sprouted where his nose used to be, and his once gentle mouth became a snarling mess of fangs and frothing spit. He twisted and writhed, struggling to free himself from his bonds. His eyes rolled back in his head as he lunged forward, clawing and snapping his jaws savagely at me. I could feel my heart breaking within my chest: he was going kill me, his own sister.

I began to slowly back away, shaking my head in disbelief, tears blurring my vision, when I ran into something cold and firm—a man's chest. "Going somewhere?" came a hiss in my ear.

That's it for tonight, as always, feedback is really appreciated so...**REVIEW **(pretty please)!

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**Ch. 3 Author's Notes (general):**

During any of the Frankenstein's machine scenes I always think of the song "Danger! High Voltage!" by Electric Six. Go download it now if you know what's good for you.

For fellow history buffs: as someone for whom anachronisms are like nails on a chalkboard, I did a little research for this chapter. Indoor plumbing/running water became widely available circa 1875 (and practically universal by 1925), so it is entirely feasible that in 1888, a privileged/royal family like Anna's would have had running water in the bathroom. The breakfast that they eat is a traditional Romanian breakfast. Also, I know there is snow on the ground during this part in the movie, but, given that when they get to Budapest it's All Hallow's Eve, this scene clearly takes place in the middle of October.

I took _tremendous_ liberties with the figure of the Invisible Man. H.G. Wells's book contains nothing about cannibalism. Although Jack Griffin _is_ (quite) violent, he seeks a chemical rather than a biological cure for his affliction. I hope I didn't offend any purists!

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**Dracula and Anna: Pathos and Alienation  
**

I'm really flattered by everyone's responses to my characterization of Dracula. I am trying really hard here to keep him as twisted, sadistic, evil, and, let's admit it, slutty as possible, because that's who he is. Of course he's sexy, magnetic, charismatic, and desirable—I don't think there are many people who would dispute his (sex) appeal—but he's still a villain and making women feel desired and cared for is just part of his sick game, it's not real. That being said, as others on this site have already illustrated to great effect, Dracula is not completely one-dimensional, and I think there is something to be said for the man buried inside the monster. To use Remember's words (in _Ink on a Page_, which I love btw), I believe he became the monster he is because he was driven. I'm hoping, in later chapters, to experiment with what drove him over the edge and to try and draw out "the man inside" without losing the menace of the character. I'm not saying that he's going to be making daisy chains and building sandcastles for Anna (as per the Nixon/Arlene love montage in _Dick_), that would be lame and wrong, but I do want to get into the vampire/Dracula as a tragic, romantic figure, as he has often been portrayed in literature/pop culture since the 19th century. I don't want to lose the horror, but I want to explore his complexities.

Anne Rice, in an interview, once suggested that the vampire as a figure is representative of the outcast in all of us, hence his mass appeal. I was very struck by her analysis. Indeed, if we think about it, the vampire is the quintessential Other whose very existence is antithetical to society, subverting social, sexual, and religious mores. And yet he yearns to be accepted by and assimilated into the human company he preys upon. In this light, we might view his pathology—the drinking of blood—as partially an effort by the vampire to become human, to take into himself the vitality and humanity that he so pointedly lacks. The intimacy of the act, which requires him to come to the neck or breast of his victim, further attests to the vampire's deep desire for contact. He is an everyman but he is also no man, and that is perhaps his greatest tragedy.

The ultimate irony of _Van Helsing_ is likewise that the four male leads—Dracula, Van Helsing, the Wolfman, and Frankenstein—are in fact different manifestations of the same character, something hinted at by Dracula when he equates himself with his antagonist—"like me, hunted by all others,"—and by Frankenstein when he reproaches a post-bite Van Helsing: "now you will become that which you have hunted so passionately…may others be as passionate in their hunting of you." All four of them, in their different ways, are outsiders, living on the fringes of society, wanting desperately to be fully integrated into it, but forever condemned to be rejected and hunted. This makes for a very sympathetic villain(s). Their actions may at times be heinous but they are all, I think, driven by a basic _human_ need for acceptance. Dracula's quest to bring his children to life isn't really about world domination, it's about survival and the right to _be_—"all I want is life, Gabriel, the continuation of my kind." His words eerily recall Frankenstein's tearful plea in the burned-out windmill that he only wants "to exist."

More specifically, it strikes me that Dracula yearns not simply "to exist," but to exist as a human. While he clearly enjoys his supernatural powers, he seems to regard his immortality as something bittersweet. Richard Roxburgh's delivery of that famous speech "I have no heart, I feel no love, no fear, no joy, no sorrow…I am hollow, and I will live forever" suggests that Dracula genuinely regrets his inability to feel, to be human, and that he covets those emotions and experiences that he cannot have. This brings us back to the heart of the film: Dracula's "purpose" in financing Victor Frankenstein's research. As a vampire, Dracula is able to reproduce asexually (through the exchange of blood) but he cannot produce viable biological offspring. His species is not under threat--he is perfectly capable of creating new vampires and, indeed, he has already done so--but, while he can multiply, he cannot have a _child_ of his own. Accordingly, it seems that the Progeny Project (for lack of a better term) aims at more than just the "continuation of his kind;" it is a means by which Dracula can get closer to the human experience. To return to his original quote, he wants _life_, the one thing that he, the undead, can never have.

What I'm trying to get at in this drawn-out, quasi-academic diatribe is that Dracula (like the other "monsters") in the film is endowed with an immense amount of pathos. Stephen Sommers laid the groundwork in VH for Dracula's redemption—it's all there in the movie, to an extent—and I want to see if I can develop those angles and push the character further.

Which brings us to Anna Banana: Anna poses similar problems and, I must say, was given extremely short shrift in the film. As a character, she is _very_ one-dimensional. She has a terrible case of tunnel vision and she is remarkably uncurious, she does not see or care for the subtleties of a given situation (example: she doesn't care _why_ Dracula has a cure for the werewolf disease, she just wants to obtain it). She lives to fight and to kill, period. Yes, she is driven by love for her family, but she is ruled more fully by revenge and prejudicial hatred. Her one moment of "softness"' in the film, her desire to see the sea, was touching but seemed very contrived. Ditto the romance between her and Van Helsing. What I'd like to do with her in this story is make her a little more vulnerable and to make her see the limits of her character (all war and no life, being isolated and not caring about it, blindly pledged to fight a losing war, etc.) as just that: limits. I want her to feel the weight of her circumstances and her character. I want her to have conflicts beyond "my brother's a werewolf and I hunt werewolves" and "do I try and kill Dracula today or tomorrow?"

Hell Harpie, you asked me not to make Anna fall in love with Dracula because it would be unrealistic, and I absolutely agree with you: her character, as written by Stephen Sommers, would _never_ fall in love with Wacko Dracko, or with anyone for that matter. Beyond his pretty face and sexy swagger, the Dracula of _Van Helsing_ has few outwardly redeeming qualities and has certainly done nothing to recommend himself to Anna. And Anna, in turn, beyond her obvious devotion to her family, shows little capacity to love and would never _dream_ of feeling anything other than blind hatred for the vampire who destroyed her life. I am going to try my damnedest to make sure that any entanglement between them is true to both their characters and to the circumstances. Conversely, I'm going to try to develop both of their characters so that any romance between them is logical and, dare I say, _right_. I don't want them going all mushy on each other—they both have too many demons for that. If they are drawn to one another, I want it to be because each is able to understand the other in ways that the world cannot. I will be relying on all of you to help keep me and my characters in line. :)

For those of you who actually read all that, I _sincerely_ thank you. You've got courage/patience, I'd say that's earned you a drink. :) Cheers.


	4. What Lies Beneath

**Helllllloooooooo! ** (spoken in a high-pitched, Monty Python-esque British accent). Greetings from sunny Williamstown, MA, where I am currently trying to impress lots of curators and professors while scoring free drinks and canapés. This was a difficult chapter and I struggled a lot with it. I'm finding Action/In The Moment Anna much harder to write than Moping Emo Anna. Suggestions/reactions re: her characterization here would be much appreciated.

On that note, as always, a _**huge**_** thank you** to my reviewers: Lorien Urbani, Shoysrock, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, ForeverACharmedOne, Ethereal Void, Sarah M., vicky, and CelestialPhoenix Maiden. Gabriel "Bourne Identity" Van Helsing may say that looking for his family is what keeps him going, but reviews are what keep me going!

I was sad to have to lose all the Drac-goodness in the last chapter—his little dance, the heartbeat thing, the way he taunts Van Bozo. Those bits are wicked sexy but, alas, since Anna isn't there for them, I can't have them in my story (sniffle). _However_, I may try and graft some of those parts onto other scenes. SO, I'm starting this chapter off with some pure Wacko Dracko and he'll be back in a big way in chapter 6. He's perhaps more on the sadistic than the seductive side here but he isn't exactly Barney the Purple Dinosaur…so, enjoy!

Anyway, this is the second-to-last chapter for a while that will stick mainly to the movie. I needed to set up some things, so for those of you craving New Original Plot, I promise it is just around the bend! And sorry this update is a bit on the short side, it was originally part of a longer chapter, but I split it in half to make it more manageable and to get you all an update faster.

**Disclaimer:** (as always) Dracula, Anna, that dude with the weapons and the weird hat (who I'm kind of nice to in this chapter, wtf), and all other characters from _VH_ are the property of Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures. Ditto any and all dialogue from the screenplay. I own nothing, _nada, rien, niente, nullum_, please don't sue me.

**A/N:** Anna's corset looks like it fastens in _both_ the back and the front (I'm staring at a close-up on the DVD right now). I know 19th century corsets usually just laced up the back, but humor me here. On that note, is it just me, or does that outfit scream "dominatrix"? Bizarre.

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**Chapter 4: What Lies Beneath**

"So…" the Count snarled, "you betray me so quickly, princess?" He seized my wrists in an iron grip and held them painfully behind my back. I felt his shoulders against mine as he towered over me, his broad chest against my back, and I suddenly felt very small, like a frightened child. And yet, much to my chagrin, a tiny part of me was thrilled to be close to him again and reveled in his touch, however rough. _Had I gone mad?_ I forced those secret, shameful desires aside, summoning rage and bile in their place.

"Let me go!" I cried, struggling against him. He only laughed and tightened his hold.

"Oh, I think not," he said smoothly, pulling me closer so that his powerful body surrounded mine, dwarfing it. "I am hurt, my love, that you would seek to abandon your host so soon. Is my hospitality so lacking?" he sneered at me. "We will have to work on your manners."

I felt my heart plummet to my stomach. So he had accomplished it after all, I had been a fool to trust him! Dracula had finished off Van Helsing with ease, and now he would keep me for himself just as I had feared. I was furious with myself for having been so easily manipulated. I would fight him until my last breath, but I knew in my heart that I was no match for this…_thing_. My family had all died trying to defeat him and I had betrayed them all in a moment of sentimental weakness. I had always been taught that casualties like Velkan were an inevitable consequence of war, to be mourned but accepted, but I had feebly refused to do so. Perhaps, I thought glumly, I deserved my fate, but I was not ready to give up.

"We had a deal, you bastard! You have your prize, now give me mine!" I spat back at him, forcing myself to stay angry and hold my head high. I would not let him see that I was afraid.

"My, my," he said mildly, without loosening his grip, "I am not accustomed to such language as this. And I see no prize, my dear. Your precious Van Helsing seems to have slipped through my fingers. No, I think it is _you_ who has not kept your end of the bargain." His tone darkened considerably. Where it had been hushed, unreadable, and almost indifferent, it was now infused with a deadly menace. "Perhaps I shall simply keep you in his place," he whispered, licking my earlobe. I shuddered in disgust. "What warnings did you give him, I wonder… And now I find you on _my_ roof attempting to steal _my_ servant. Tell me, my pet, who is dishonest now?"

_Van Helsing was alive?_ But the faint hope that was sparked by this revelation died just as quickly when I realized that Dracula might well have apprised him of our little arrangement. Even if I somehow escaped the vampire, the hunter, if he knew I had led him into a trap, would kill me for sure and I was horrified by how neatly _I_ had trapped myself. "You deceitful, foul, manipulative—" a sharp wrench on my wrist turned my defiance to a gasp of pain.

"What," he hissed venomously, "did I say about—" he was cut off by a loud roar from Velkan, who had managed to snap one of the straps that still held him to the table and was struggling wildly with the remaining two. "_Ast!" _the Count locked his gaze on the wolf that had been my brother and began whispering in a language that I did not know. Velkan immediately stopped thrashing and stared at him, transfixed. He continued to whisper without breaking his eye contact and slowly shook his head. "_Nu._" Velkan began to whimper and lay still.

"Werewolves are such a nuisance during their first full moon," Dracula drawled sardonically, "wouldn't you agree, my love? So hard to control…" He looked up at my brother, tightening his grip on my wrists with one hand so that I couldn't move and draping his other arm around my waist. I craned my face away from him, but only succeeded in baring my throat more fully for his perusal. He bent his face to my neck, inhaling deeply before raising his eyes to Velkan's once more. "Tell me, your highness," he sneered at him, "don't we make a lovely couple? I have such great plans for her, little prince." Velkan whined pitifully.

Still watching him, the Count lifted his hand to caress my curves, trailing it wantonly over my breasts and then venturing lower, smirking into my shoulder as my body responded in spite of me. He pressed his open mouth to my collarbone, his cold lips shocking my hot flesh. His long fingers fiddled absently with the ties of my corset. "Always such a lovely girl, and now grown up into such a…_lovely woman_. Such lovely lips, such a lovely body…so soft and supple. So _yielding_ in my arms…do you know what she has done for you?" he taunted him, kissing an icy path across my jaw, "how far would she go, I wonder, to save your life?"

And then his hand clamped down on my chin, pulling my head roughly to face him, his other hand savagely jerking my wrists. "And how, I wonder," he hissed, "should I punish her for her disobedience?" His icy blue eyes released Velkan from their stare and bore into my own. "Have I not been fair and open with you, princess? Did I not tell you of the consequences of betraying me?" He paused. "What a curious case of amnesia seems to have struck my guests tonight. Would you like me to refresh your memory a little, hmm? What terms you so solemnly swore to last night?" I gasped in pain as his grip continued to tighten. My hands were starting to go numb. "Do you know, my dear," he said softly, "what we used to do to traitors when I ruled this country?" I felt the blood drain from my face and he laughed cruelly. "My but you're a pretty thing. I confess I'd much rather kiss than threaten you. I wonder if that might be more effective?" he cooed, his face inches from mine.

"You'll do neither, demon, let her go!" I suddenly heard Van Helsing shout from behind me. Caught off guard, Dracula momentarily loosened his hold on me and I tore myself out of his grasp, knocking him backwards several paces. "I think we've overstayed our welcome."

Before my mind could process what had just happened, Van Helsing grabbed me and rushed to the edge of the parapet, drawing a large pistol from his coat. He aimed it across the river and fired, shooting a thin wire over the gorge and into the trees on the other side. Swiftly securing the pistol to the tower, he snapped a strap over the cable and leapt over the edge, throwing me over his shoulder as he did so. We had begun to soar across to our freedom when Velkan finally succeeded in breaking free and bounded after us. He must have grabbed the cable because the next instant the tether snapped and we were plummeting towards the water. "Hold on!" Van Helsing shouted and we both clung to the wire and each other for dear life as we swung across the ravine. Narrowly missing the edge of the cliff, we tumbled to the ground and lay in a heap.

"What…how…where?" I wheezed, trying to catch my breath as he helped me to my feet.

"How does he know me, Anna?" he demanded. And for the first time, he looked truly shaken.

"Who?" I frowned. I was confused. He didn't seem to be trying to kill me, perhaps the Count had told him nothing after all. But why?

"Dracula knew me! He said we had a past, '_such history_,' he told me. _What history_?!" He was pulling me along roughly as we scrambled through the forest, trying to put as much distance between ourselves and Castle Frankenstein as possible. The rain was still beating down and it was hard to keep our footing in the mud.

"I don't know anything more about your past than you do, Mr. Van Helsing," I sighed. I wasn't in any mood to argue. I just wanted to go home.

"Bullshit," he growled, "your family knows everything about Dracula. If we have a shared past then you must know what it is and you _choose_ to hide it from me, why? And why didn't the stake kill him? The crucifix? What else aren't you telling me, Anna?!"

"A silver stake? A crucifix?!" Now I was angry, the guilt I felt at abandoning him to the Count swiftly dissipating. I had tolerated Van Helsing up to that point—his brusque manner of address, his cool self-assuredness, his self-righteous judgment of those he'd slain. I admit there had been moments earlier in the day when I had even found myself enjoying his company. But I would not be talked down to by this arrogant Roman who knew nothing of our enemy or our war. Who knew nothing of _me_. "What, do you think we haven't tried everything before? We've shot him, stabbed him, clubbed him, sprayed him with holy water, staked him through the heart and _still_ he lives!" I shouted, shoving him roughly. "Do you understand me? _No one_ knows how to kill Dracula!"

"Well," he replied coolly, "I could have used that information a little earlier."

"Don't give me that look…" I glared at him, turning away and marching up the hill. I didn't care where I was going as long as it was away from him and his questions. I just wanted to be alone.

We broke out of the trees at last and onto a rain-drenched moor, where I recognized the charred remains of the old windmill. We had burned it to the ground the year before in pursuit of Victor Frankenstein and his monstrous creation. I had not come back to this place since that night, although Velkan had returned several times to search for the monster's remains. I took an odd comfort in the knowledge that my brother had been here and touched these scorched beams, walked on this blackened grass, and I sought shelter in its shell.

"And where did you disappear to back there? I thought you had my back!" Van Helsing yelled over the downpour. I froze in my tracks. _What did he know…he couldn't, could he?_

"You know where I went," I spat, "I went to find my brother!"

"And you found him. Were you satisfied, Anna? I told you he wasn't your brother anymore!"

All of the hurt, and anger, and guilt that I had been struggling to contain suddenly boiled over. Velkan may have succumbed to his disease, but I'd heard his cries when Dracula had threatened to make me his. He knew me still, in spite of his madness, and I could not abandon the hope that the Count's cure could save him. Unlike this callous Roman, I could not so easily ignore my heart. I threw caution to the wind. "I wouldn't expect you to understand!" I roared at him, "I didn't ask to fight this war, but it was thrust upon me all the same! This is just a job to you, you _choose_ to be here, and for what? For glory? Riches? I do this for my brother, my father, my mother! If you were in my place can you deny that you would have done the same? Do you even understand what family is? Or did you cast yours aside to run around collecting heads for your mantle?!" My voice cracked and I broke off, breathing hard.

Van Helsing was looking at me very quietly, a strange, melancholy expression coming over his proud features. "I have no memory of my family," he said softly. "I've searched every recess of my mind for some trace…but always I find nothing. Only nightmares."

A wave of guilt swept over me when I saw his pain. I had intended to wound him with those words, but not so severely. My mother always used to warn me to control my temper and I remembered one of her favorite poems, tucked inside those foreign books that she so loved to read. Tennyson, I think it was, who wrote that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I felt sudden pity for the man in front of me who knew nothing of love, only death.

"I am sorry," I said awkwardly, "please forgive me, Mr. Van Helsing, I did not know."

"My Cardinal tells me it is penance for past sins," he continued, seeming not to have heard me. His gaze was far off and troubled, "but I do not know what I have done. Or how to repent my crimes."

"Then, truly, I am sorry," I offered again, "I did not mean to cause you such distress."

He sighed and forced a smile, straightening his broad shoulders. "It is of no matter. I will find them some day, I hope. It's what keeps me going." The rain had become heavier while we were speaking, it was running down my face in rivulets, and he abruptly removed his hat and placed it on my head. "And please," he added gently, "call me Gabriel." Touched by this gesture, I smiled up at him in gratitude and watched his own broaden somewhat. Perhaps I had misjudged him, just as he had misjudged my brother.

Feeling a desperate need to lighten the mood--and for a drink--I picked up one of the several bottles of absinthe that littered the ground around us. The miller had been a drunk, it seemed. A drunk with good taste. "Then, Gabriel, here's to what keeps you going," I said, raising it and taking a swig. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Absinthe?" he marveled, looking at me strangely, "strong stuff." Clearly he had not been around Transylvanian women before.

I cocked a brow teasingly at him and offered him the bottle. "Don't let it touch your tongue," I warned him as he took it from my hand, "it will knock you on your—"

Suddenly the timbers we stood on caved in and collapsed. I was falling into the earth. Everything seemed slowed down. I felt my back hit the ground below, my head slammed into something hard. A searing pain shot down my spine, my body felt like it was on fire, and then…blissful blackness.

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**Alright, folks, that's it for capitolo 4!** **Review please!** Reviews make me write faster _and_ Al Gore says they help prevent global warming. I know I went a _bit_ overboard with the notes last time so I'll keep them short and non-serious today. I do want to thank you all, however, for your kind words re: my mini-essay—nerds of the world unite! 

First order of business: since I've been rather sparing with the SexyBackDrac of late, here's a little teaser for you guys. It's from a scene later in the story (I've been writing random bits here and there, no other complete chapters yet though) and it promises much sexiness:

_I was suddenly afraid of my body and all of the things it was feeling. I felt his hands on me, his lips brushing over my skin, his tongue…I was amazed that I was allowing this—no, _encouraging_ him, welcoming his attentions. I felt his gaze sweep hungrily over my body and I knew what he must be seeing, such impropriety, such shame. His _conquest_. And the more I imagined my degradation, the more excited I became._

Yeah. I'll get to that part soonish (I think in chapter 11?) so keep your pants on, because it looks like two other people I might mention are going to be losing theirs… Oh my!

The next update may take a bit, since I've got loads to do and somebody decided to be a bad vampire and hack the password to my computer. Perhaps "DraculaStopLookingAtPorn" was a bit too obvious? --she says this next bit loudly enough that a certain someone in the next room can overhear-- Muses are such a nuisance during their first story…so hard to control…

**Dracula:** Hey, that's my line!

**Anon E. Mouse:** What? Oh, so sorry, your highness, I didn't realize you owned the copyright.

**Dracula:** Copyright? --frowns-- What's that?

**Anon E. Mouse:** If you don't know then you certainly don't have one. Welcome to the information age, Count Chocula.

**Dracula:** Stop calling me that!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Or you'll what? I make the rules here, buddy, so unless you want to spend the rest of the story wearing women's underwear and singing "Baby One More Time" on top of the tower of Castle Frankenstein, you'll keep your mouth shut.

**Dracula:** You wouldn't dare…

**Anon E. Mouse:** Oh, I would.

**Dracula:** …

**Anon E. Mouse:** That's better. How does it feel to be a puppet on _my_ string, beyotch?

**Dracula:** …--seethes silently--…

I could get used to this. Bwahahahaha…

Now, I haven't worked out the mechanics of how _everything_ else in the story will play out, but I've written most of the very last chapter and I can tell you, J.K. Rowling style, that the last word is "eyes." Now I just have to write all the chapters in between…help! **Allora—a presto! **


	5. I Am Trying to Believe

Hey y'all. 40 hits and only 3 reviews for chapter 4? That's a little disappointing, did it suck that much :( Don't get me wrong, I loved the ones I got, but I was hoping for a tad more feedback—con-crit, one line, anything to let me know whether or not I should keep going. Oh well, as Aleera says, I guess I'll have to try a little harder.

**Thank you awesome people who reviewed last time: **ForeverACharmedOne, Shoysrock, and Agent Adina, I have girl-crushes on all of you.

I also want to give a shout-out to Charmes Malheureux, who sent me the kindest PMs that totally made me blush. Ceiliuir was lucky to have you as a fiction buddy, I hope your inspiration returns soon!

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**Disclaimer:** As always, all characters, lines, and events from _Van Helsing_ are the property of Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures. I own nothing. And I **swear** we are almost at the point of _total _spin-off. 

In this chapter we finally meet Victor Frankenstein's creation and I have a confession to make: I never read Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. I want to read it at some point, but I couldn't cram it in before writing this chapter. A lame excuse, I know, but there it is. So, I read here and there in the chapters narrated by the monster and looked around on the internets to get an idea of Frankenstein/Adam's character. **Beware! Dorkiness follows! **(Feel free to skip down to the actual chapter.)

From what I can gather, Stephen Sommers stuck fairly close to Shelly's original characterization of Frankenstein. Shelly initially describes him as having the mind of a newborn, although this is contradicted by later testaments to his eloquence and sensitivity. When he tells Victor the story of his life, he impresses the scientist with his education and humanity. In _VH_, the creature is the most sympathetic of the three "monsters." He is selfless, pious, intelligent, and well-spoken. His grotesque appearance belies a highly gentle and human soul. He is deeply pained by his abject appearance, and society's reaction to it, and by the nefarious purpose for which he was created.

I was very struck by the Christological undertones in Frankenstein's character. He refers to himself in the film as "the key to my father's machine, the key to life." In the novel he alludes to Milton's Paradise Lost when he admonishes his creator for calling him a monster: "remember that I am thy creature: I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel." On one hand, this comparison with Adam (and his potential to function as an _alter Christus_) sets up his creator (Victor) as a Godlike figure, a comparison exploited in the film. On the other, the monster's affinity with Adam and Christ casts him in the role of the redeemer, who must symbolize fallen, suffering humanity and redeem it through self-sacrifice. He also suggests a striking parallel to Job.

Gah, I don't want to embark on another crazy essay so I'll get to the point. One of the questions I was grappling with when I sat down to write this chapter was how the monster would speak. In the novel, he learns to speak from a family of peasants whom he observes though a hole in their cottage wall. He acquires written language from several key texts—Paradise Lost, de Volney's Ruins of Empires, and the Bible. Since the film takes place only a year after his creation, and has him hiding out full-time under the windmill, I decided that I would have him speak mainly in quotations. It is clear from the film that his major source of language is the Bible—the charred Bible is the second object that we encounter in the cavern and he recites lines from Psalm 23 as he is carried away by Igor at the ball. Accordingly, I will be taking most of his dialogue from the Bible. So if his speech is a bit awkward, that's why. I'm not trying to be blasphemous or offensive, if anyone _is_ offended by this I sincerely apologize.

I would _love_ feedback on whether or not this approach is successful. I know I can overthink things at times. :)

**OK, onward!**

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**Chapter 5: I Am Trying to Believe (a.k.a. What Lies Beneath, part II)**

Water was dripping slowly somewhere close to my head. Echoes of the Count's touch and taunts and of Velkan's distressed whines assaulted my memory as I struggled towards consciousness. When I opened my eyes, all I could see was black. My legs felt heavy and when I tried to breathe a sharp pain shot down the center of my ribs. I felt like I was drowning in a dark sea, kicking desperately towards the surface. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed the debris off of me and struggled painfully to my feet. My head was throbbing and little black specks danced before my eyes. I groaned and touched my head gingerly—I didn't feel any blood. I threw one leg over the pile of rubble surrounding me and gasped in pain, feeling suddenly dizzy, when a gloved hand clamped down over my mouth.

"Shhh!" Gabriel whispered urgently, "there's something down here!"

_Something?_ I looked around warily, drawing my sword. As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I could see that we had fallen into a deep, vast cavern beneath the windmill. Neither Velkan nor I, nor anyone else in Vaseria had known of this place. Far above I saw the hole in the earth through which we'd come, the moon peeking from behind swiftly dissipating storm clouds. It illuminated the grotto with a soft, eerie glow. There was a small spring to the right and the numerous stalactites and stalagmites were dripping with condensation; they gave the cavern the appearance of a great hall. I cautiously stepped forward and something crunched under my feet. I looked down and saw that the ground was littered with the bones of small animals. Grimacing, I shot Gabriel a questioning glance but he said nothing. He was crouched on the ground, absorbed.

"It's carnivorous," he whispered, holding one of the bones up to the light. There was a charred, well-worn Bible lying next to them. and he picked it up. "Whatever it is, it appears to be human." We moved away from the spring and advanced slowly, his hand lightly holding my arm. It was the wrong moment to be entertaining such thoughts, but I had to admit that something about this sudden contact thrilled me—there was something intimate about it. Gabriel was looking attentively at the ground, eyeing some large footprints. "I'd say he's a size seventeen," he murmured, "around three hundred and sixty pounds." We were moving further back, out of the patch of moonlight and into the shadows, and I didn't like it. Something felt horribly off. "Eight and a half to nine feet tall," Gabriel continued, "he has a bad gimp in his right leg…" he paused, fingering his revolver, looking up at me. No, _looking past me_. "And three copper teeth."

"How do you know he has copper teeth," I breathed, not wanting to know the answer.

"Because he's standing right behind you—move!" Without warning he shoved me aside roughly. I fell hard on my hands and knees. And then I saw it. I had seen it only briefly and from a distance the year before, and the tales that I had heard afterwards from Velkan, Joben, and the others could never have prepared me for what stood over me. Its patchwork skin was a bluish grey, like a corpse. Its head was bulbous, almost square, and covered in stitched lacerations. Several staples and bolts held its bald crown onto its face and ribbons of electricity shot between them. Three of its teeth were copper, the rest were rotted and chipped. The only feature that appeared human to me was its eyes, and they flashed dangerously as it raised its hand to strike.

"Oh my God," I gasped in disbelief, "it's the Frankenstein monster!"

"Monster! Who's the monster here!" it bellowed, lumbering towards me.

"It can speak?!" I cried, aghast. It threw Gabriel into the spring and I scrambled backwards, trying desperately to get to my feet as it bore down on me.

"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways," its voice grew louder with each word and its rage increased as it continued to advance. "If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal! All who see me laugh me to scorn, they curl their lips and wag their heads!" It seized me under my arms and pinned me roughly against the rock wall. It shook me violently as it roared, blowing its rancid breath in my face. "I have done nothing wrong, and yet you and your kind all wish me dead!"

Over the creature's hulking shoulder I could see that Gabriel had finally succeeded in getting to his feet. In a blur, he barreled towards us and knocked me out of the creature's grasp, I fell to the ground, hard. He slammed its head into the rock and, to my horror, its head came apart, exposing its hideous brain, which fizzed and hissed with live current. Gabriel went to seize it, but the charge shocked him and he fell back, and the monster hurled him into the spring once more before turning to face me, resuming its vengeful pursuit. It pressed the fragments of its face together as it charged towards me and I stumbled as I tried to escape its grasp. It reached out to seize me and I closed my eyes in terror.

"What do you want?" I cried desperately. It halted in its tracks and recoiled its hand.

"To exist," it whispered, a stricken expression crossed its disfigured face. I stared at it, perplexed. "I was his creature…I ought to have been his Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, a worm and no man, scorned by all and despised by the people."

It suddenly threw his head back and howled in anguish. Staggering backwards, it collapsed, panting, on its side and I saw several darts protruding from its back. Looking up, I found Gabriel, soaking wet, standing by the water where the creature had thrown him. He held a blowgun to his lips. I didn't have a second to lose, I ran to retrieve my gun from where I had dropped it, cocked it, and aimed it at the creature, which was struggling to sit up. But before I could pull the trigger, Gabriel pushed my hand down.

"No, Anna!" he shouted. _What was he doing?_ The creature had to be destroyed!

"We must kill it!" I insisted, raising my gun once more., but he closed his fingers over my wrist and shook his head forcefully. I stared at him in disbelief. I could not understand how he could have been so eager to kill my brother, and yet hesitate to destroy this inhuman thing.

"Wait," he urged me.

"If you value your lives and those of your kind, you _will_ kill me!" the creature panted. It tried vainly to raise itself on its arms but only collapsed once more onto the earth. I moved again to shoot it but Gabriel blocked my hand. The creature's eyes were beginning to glaze over. It continued to speak.

"If Dracula finds me…" it whispered, struggling to breathe. "I am the key to my father's machine…the key to life. Life for Dracula's children."

"He already awakened them last night," Gabriel said, echoing my thoughts, as we moved towards the monster writhing on the ground. It spat dismissively.

"Pah. Those…those were from only one bride. From one single birthing…and they died as they did the last time he tried…" _How could it know these things,_ I wondered. More to the point, _the last time he tried?_ Just how many attempts had the Count made to bring his foul offspring to life? And what would he do now that the key had been discovered? I knew instantly that this was a risk we could not take. I had felt few scruples at handing the monster hunter over to him, but I could not expose my people to the danger that those creatures would pose should they be revived. The monster had to die.

Gabriel was shaking his head in disbelief, and, for the first time, I saw terror in his eyes. "There are more? More of those things?" he gasped.

"Thousands," the creature rasped, "thousands more." Its eyes rolled back in its head. "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever," it breathed. "Be not far from me, Lord, for trouble is near and there is none to help." And then it slumped forward, unconscious.

I was suddenly enraged, furious that Gabriel should fight to preserve this creature when he had so mercilessly condemned my brother. Velkan could be redeemed, but the monster had been created for evil and it would never escape his purpose. Bloodlust consumed me, this thing did not deserve to live, and certainly not at Velkan's expense! And this was my chance. One last time I raised my gun, moving forward to shoot, and again Gabriel grabbed me, this time more roughly than the last. "No," he insisted.

"You heard what it said!" I shouted. I was livid. Why could he not see? He, who was always so eager to deal out death and judgment?

He held me by my shoulders, his warm brown eyes looked imploringly into my own. "My life—my job is to vanquish evil," he said gently but firmly. "I can sense evil. And this thing, man, whatever it is…evil may have created it, may have left its mark on it, but evil does not rule it. So I cannot kill it."

"I can," I shot back angrily, wrenching myself out of his grasp.

"Not while I'm here," he maintained, grabbing hold of me once again, continuing to look at me softly. "Anna," something in the way he said my name made tears abruptly spring to my eyes. Like his touch on my arm earlier, his voice was…_intimate_, and I felt my resolve beginning to weaken. "Your family has spent more than four hundred years trying to kill Dracula. Maybe this poor creature can help us find a way. We cannot save your brother," he said, as if reading my thoughts, "but we can avenge him. His sacrifice does not need to have been in vain."

I don't know why, but I felt a sudden urge to collapse against him, to have him wrap his arms around me and hold me close. When Velkan had disappeared, I'd had no one to comfort me. The only embraces I had known since then were the Count's. And although, much to my shame, they had pleased me, his caresses were filled with dishonorable and lustful intentions, and in that moment I longed for the purity of the hunter's touch. Weary with having to be strong and unfeeling, I wanted for once to be vulnerable. I closed my eyes and leaned into him. His hand gently cupped my cheek, his warmth was intoxicating; the Count had been so cold. I could feel his body soften, his face inching towards mine, and I moistened my lips in anticipation.

But before he could close the gap, we heard scrambling paws and falling rocks. We broke apart and looked up wildly at the hole in the earth. Velkan, still in his wolf's form, was crouched above us, eyeing the unconscious creature sprawled beneath him. Moving quickly, I raised my gun and fired. I aimed to miss, hoping to frighten him before Gabriel reached his weapon. I knew that _he_ would not fail to hit his target. To my relief, Velkan yelped and scurried away.

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. Dracula must have sent him after us, and now, in a matter of minutes, he would know where to find the monster. "My God," I breathed, horrified, "he's seen us. Now they'll come for him, and neither you nor I will be able to stop them!"

Gabriel was standing motionless, looking thoughtfully into space. Had he heard what I said? I reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. He nodded his head slowly, trying to hide the worry in his eyes as he drew himself up straight. "If I can get him to Rome," he said resolutely, "we can protect him there.

It was a struggle to lift the monster up through the hole in the cavern roof, but, somehow, we managed it. By the time we were once again above ground, it was almost morning. In the distance, the sky was lightening over the mountain-tops and I could feel the first hints of winter in the breeze. The creature had regained some measure of consciousness, so we tied its hands as best we could and dragged it along with us. It struggled groggily somewhat and occasionally whispered some protest or condemnation, but it was largely more docile than I had expected. We set off towards home as briskly as possible, knowing that Dracula and his surviving whores were likely close on our heels.

"We need to leave as soon as possible," Gabriel said, occasionally glancing up into the sky "and we travel light. We'll take what we need, leave all that can be spared behind. It will be several weeks' journey to the coast and I'm sorry to say we won't have much time for rest. We'll cross the Adriatic from Zadat and I'll cable Rome to have coaches meet us at Ancona. You said you always wanted to see the sea…"

"_We?"_ I asked. I didn't like the sound of this.

"Of course," he replied, "you're coming with us, Anna."

"I'll be damned if I am," I retorted. As far as I was concerned, I had performed my task. I had had _enough_ of the loathsome creature we pulled along with us, and I still had my brother to worry about. If the Count still wished to negotiate, I would be happy to oblige, although it was hard to ignore the twinge of guilt I now felt at the thought of betraying Gabriel once more. I found that I had softened considerably towards him over the past several hours, but I could not forget that he was my leverage. My only leverage. No, I could not help him anymore; I had my own family to worry about, my own charge, my own people.

"You will come with us," he said gently but forcefully, "and hide the creature from Dracula. I guarantee you he is already searching for him, and when he finds him gone, he will look for me. _But he will not look for you_. I need you, Anna, I cannot protect him by myself." Part of me smirked inwardly at his admission of weakness. The _great Van Helsing_ was asking for _my_ help? I could not help but be a bit flattered. It was about time.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" I asked warily, giving him a skeptical glance.

"A decoy," he said simply. "We will travel parallel roads. The creature and Carl will go with you, and if the Count should catch up with me, all that he will find is a stake and an empty coach."

I continued to look at him silently, but the wheels in my head were beginning to turn. I had to admit it was a good plan. And if I played my cards right, everyone could walk away happy—everyone, that was, except for Gabriel, who would probably not walk away at all. Again that twinge of guilt. I shoved it aside roughly, swallowing hard. I could not let any feelings that I was beginning to have for him distract me from my original purpose. My brother, my family, they were what was important, not the stranger who walked beside me, who would probably just as soon kill me as kiss me if I crossed him. I was nothing to him, I reasoned, so he should be nothing to me. Yes, I would go with him, and I would hand him to the Count, if he would still have him, I was much too close to success to be interrupted now. Dracula would take his prize and I would take the creature to Rome, where it could never serve the vampire's sinister purposes. When I returned, I would recover my brother and together we would defeat the Count once and for all. The two of us would be heroes.

"Alright, I will go with you," I said finally, facing him once more.

"I'm glad," he said, and then he suddenly smiled. I know not how to describe that smile or its affect on me. It was like a magician's potion, the sun breaking out of the clouds on a stormy day. I winced and turned away, the thought of what I was to do weighing heavily inside. I wondered, then, what it would have been like had we met under different circumstances. Would he have courted me? Loved me? Or would he have had little room in his life of hunting and death for tender words or a soft touch? Just as I had none in mine…no, I would not let my heart be swayed.

The sun was high in the sky and on its way to the west by the time we arrived home. Carl came bustling out to meet us, acting most peculiarly. There were curious marks on his neck—Dracula's children?—but when we questioned him about them and expressed concern he turned the color of a beet and pulled his robes close about him, muttering something about some kind of accident. And when he saw the monster he squealed in fright and ducked behind the door. "Is that a man?" he quailed, peaking cautiously out at the creature, who glared menacingly at him.

"Actually seven men, parts anyway," Gabriel replied indifferently. "Oh, for God's sake, Carl, whatever you do, don't stare at him," he scolded. He turned to me. "We leave as soon as possible, do what you must to prepare, but do it quickly. I'll gather supplies and meet you in the armory."

Normally I would have been annoyed by his presumptuousness--ordering me around in my own house. But I had neither the strength nor the appetite for a quarrel, so I nodded resolutely and headed upstairs to bathe and change. I was filthy from our fall at the windmill, and I was not about to depart for a month's-long journey in such a state, no matter what the urgency. Warrior or not, I was still a princess.

Minutes later, having washed and dressed hastily, I re-entered my bedroom. I could see that the sun was already low in the sky. I was hurriedly grabbing clothes from my wardrobe when I noticed a piece of parchment on my pillow that had not been there when I'd left the morning before. Curious, I picked it up. It felt old and heavy. Written in ornate, elegant script was one line "You have one chance to redeem yourself, my princess." It was unsigned, but I had no doubt as to the author and that one line told me all I needed to know: our bargain was still in play. I looked around cautiously. Seeing no one, I hastily tore the note to shreds and scattered half of them out of the window, pocketing the remainder. I could not risk their being reassembled.

I fetched a fresh sheet of paper from my writing desk. I knew I had to be vague in case someone else should see it and in order to safeguard the creature from the Count. After thinking for a minute, I scribbled, "he flees by carriage, into the woods." Anyone else who found it would think it meaningless. I revealed neither our number nor our destination, and I prayed desperately that Dracula would be fooled by our ruse, that he would be distracted by his pursuit of Gabriel and allow the creature and myself to get safely to Rome. I left the paper where the first had been and, after stuffing my belongings into a bag, I swiftly exited the room and went downstairs to join Gabriel, not seeing the piercing blue eyes that followed my every move from the shadows outside my window, hidden beneath a dark cloak.

Gabriel had left the creature under Carl's supervision, and he had unsurprisingly been most unwilling to perform the task of chaperone. I chuckled softly at the thought of the little friar's dramatic protests, sorry that I had not witnessed them for myself. When we had gathered what weapons and other supplies we required, we took our leave of the servants and made our way outside.

Two carriages stood in the courtyard, three teams of coal black horses hitched to each. One stood empty, in the other the creature sat despondently, occasionally struggling with the chains that bound him. Carl sat opposite it looking petrified. Every time the creature moved, the friar would squeak and wiggle further back in his seat. Normally I would have found his behavior comical, but I could not tear my mind away from the journey that awaited me and it filled me with dread.

"How lonely sits the city that once was full of people," the creature said suddenly, mournfully. It was looking vacantly out of the window of the coach at the deserted streets. "If you do not stop them, they will march up over the breadth of the earth and surround the camp of the saints and the beloved city. They shall come in droves, everywhere there will be death, and weeping and gnashing of teeth."

I looked at Gabriel in alarm. I was still uneasy about having preserved the creature, more so about taking it out of hiding. And now its words struck fear into my heart. If the Count found it, his monstrous offspring would live; there would be thousands of them, and they would be unstoppable.

"Gabriel, what if it's right," I began.

"No, Anna," he said softly, placing a hand reassuringly on my arm. He turned to the creature: "we will keep you safe, friend, it is not for us to kill you. You will be safe with the Order, I swear it."

This seemed to do little to soothe it, however, for it whipped its head around, its eyes blazing. "By exposing me, you have condemned me!" it roared at us, wrestling madly with its shackles, "me and all of humanity!"

The rest of its rant was muffled when Gabriel shut the door, but I could still hear the sounds of its protests and struggles. His gaze wavered for a moment before he turned to me. I was looking at him accusingly. "Anna, I—"

"I do not understand," I began harshly, but my tone soon softened, tears coming to my eyes, "I still do not understand how you can fight so for this thing when you sentence Velkan to death. I will go with you, Gabriel, and I will help you as much as I can, but I cannot pretend that I do not see the hypocrisy in this. And you cannot expect me to. He was my brother, Gabriel, he's the only family I have left! You cannot expect me to abandon him."

He looked at me apologetically, and reached out a hand to squeeze my shoulder. "Do not think my job does not affect me or that I relish my charge," he said gently, "to the rest of the world these monsters are just evil beings to be vanquished, but I'm the one who's left standing there when they die and become the men they once were…I am the one who is despised like they are." I felt my anger begin to dissipate as I melted under his hand. As I had at the windmill the night before, I suddenly pitied him. "Anna, I don't know how else I can tell you how truly sorry I am about your brother, but he is beyond our aid now, you must see that. If you help me, we can save one more life today, and I promise you we will avenge him. Please, Anna, I need you."

He lifted his hand to caress my cheek, his gaze compassionate, warm, and imploring. But though I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and lean into his touch, I turned away angrily, not wishing to look at him. I did not want to remember that the price of my brother's life was Gabriel's destruction.

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**A/N: **Sources for Frankenstein's lines: Frankenstein (Mary Shelly), I Corinthians, Psalms 22 and 73, Lamentations 1, Revelation 20, Matthew 8 (and, obviously, the _VH_ script). 

Zadat was one of the major port cities of the Austro-Hungarian Empire on the Adriatic coast in the 19th century (according to the historical atlas I found online). It looks like today it would be in Croatia.

**And that's chapter 5.** I hope it was better than the last one. Please, please, please review! Punch and pie.

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**Dracula: ** Oh my dear lord, not you too. 

**Anon E. Mouse:** Oh your dear lord, not me _what_, Count. Cut the riddles, I'm not in the mood.

**Dracula:** --to himself-- how many overwrought authoresses do I have to comfort in one day? --aloud-- I can see that, my dear. --sighs-- Now, tell me, what is distressing my little scholar?

**Anon E. Mouse:** It's nothing, I'm fine.

**Dracula: **Yes, clearly. Try again.

**Anon E. Mouse: **My prospectus isn't going well, and I'm hitting a wall with this story. --starts to tear up-- Maybe I should just stop.

**Dracula:** Good gracious, there, there…just mind the jacket please, my love. --pulls out a handkerchief and puts an arm around her-- How are you hitting a wall? You have a synopsis, and a chapter-by-chapter outline. You _know_ how the plot will develop. --purrs-- You even know when Anna and I will…

**Anon E. Mouse:** Yes, but it's taking forever to get there! I'm spending to long on "set-up." And I get the sense that people are getting bored with me just retelling the movie with a twist, I need to get to the "new" part _now_.

**Dracula:** You have more than a "few" alterations up your sleeve, dear. And you're about to veer _far and away_ out of Stephen Sommers's territory.

**Anon E. Mouse:** But nobody's reviewing anymore, I've lost my readers, Count.

**Dracula:** Now, now, did it ever occur to you, _cara-mia_, that your readers may have too much else on their plates to review at the moment? Don't you, at times, have to give priority to your real work and just read and skip the review?

**Anon E. Mouse:** Yeah…I guess you're right.

**Dracula: **Of course I am. I'm the king of the vampires, darling, I am _always_ right. Now, don't you have work to do?

**Anon E. Mouse:** Well…I have to finish that book on altar tabernacles.

**Dracula: **--to self-- Ugh, sounds _fascinating_... --aloud-- That's my good girl. Off to the library with you, while I go see about convincing your readers to review. I can be very…_persuasive_.

--Anon E, Mouse leaves the house (hey that rhymes!)--

**Dracula: **Alright my lovelies, you know what to do. The poor dear has had a bad week, and when she's in a funk like this she's no fun to be around. Personally, I think she's lost it. Please, for the sake of her sanity and mine, **review, my darlings, REVIEW!**


	6. What a Wicked Game You Play

**Please read the author's notes (both here and at the end)**

Hi guys, before I get to the chapter I just wanted to say something about the progression of the story and the seemingly clear (from the stats) decline of interest in it. I'm feeling pretty down on the whole thing (in case you hadn't guessed...), and I'm really doing my best to keep it interesting for you. I know I could always pull the "it's my first fic" card, but, really, I'd much rather get it right than have a good excuse for why it's wrong. I swear on Roxula's hot booty that this is _not_ just a re-telling of the film. It is shaped by the film to a degree and it follows its _basic_ structure, but the film does not rule it in the way that it has chapters 3 and 5 (and 4 to an extent). I am asking you to have a little faith, I promised new stuff and I _will_ make good on it.

I know it's taking a while to get to "the point," as it were. In a nutshell, I need to get Anna to Budapest. At the same time though, I need to set up the conflict between Dracula and Van Helsing, so I've been trying to give old Gabe some time to work his magic. Well, now they're on their road trip and we all know what comes next. This chapter contains _nothing_ recycled from the film. You said you wanted Dracula and Anna to meet again, so here you go.

On a lighter note, I've been pretty nice to Van Helsing in the past two chapters but don't worry, that's about to change _really_ soon. Come on, can he really compare to Vladislaus "Sexy Back" Dracula? Clearly not. We're about to find out who's king of the castle. Actually, Van Helsing doesn't even _have_ a castle, so it's not really a competition...

Lastly, this chapter, like chapter 2, contains semi-kinky material. This story is still rated T, so there is no explicit content, but things do veer in the direction of smut.** So, again, if you are offended by this kind of stuff, please don't read it and then flame me for it.** If there is sufficient demand for the K-rated Dracula and Anna Go to the Malt Shop, or the K+ rated Dracula and Anna Go to the Malt Shop and Hold Hands, I might consider it. But for now, specter of Anthony Comstock, I banish you!

**Thank yous are at the end this time. As always, I own nothing. Credit to _Labyrinth_ for a few lines.  
**

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Chapter 6: What a Wicked Game You Play**

We had been traveling for several days. We had passed through the Carpathians into Wallachia, from there we would travel west, crossing back into the Empire as we neared the coast. I must admit I was excited by the prospect of going to the sea, but I wished that the circumstances were different, that it was my father, and not Gabriel, who was with me, as he had always promised he would be.

We would rest briefly in the middle of the day, only to resume our flight at dusk and follow the sun into the west. I had seen little of Gabriel, but I knew that he was out there somewhere, passing through the same trees, looking at the same sky, and that thought heartened me. Carl proved pleasant company when he wasn't babbling on about one or another new invention or new phobia and the creature, thankfully, was largely silent. With the two of them squirreled away in the coach, however, and myself on top of it driving the horses, I spent the majority of the journey alone. The solitude was wearing at first, but I soon found myself embracing it.

It was the kind of adventure I had always dreamed about when I was small. Velkan and I used to pack our bundles with bread and cheese and solemnly take our leave of our parents. Strapping wooden swords and daggers to our bodies, we would set out stealthily through the forest in the armory, battling the fierce creatures there, making our way up to the tower—the castle where we would defeat Dracula once and for all. We were not allowed to play in the real forest. Whenever our father left for one of his expeditions we would beg to go with him, eager to have a real adventure of our own. We had defeated all of the imaginary monsters in the manor, and we were sure that we were ready to face the ones outside. "When you are older," Papa would always say.

Sure enough, the day came when Velkan was old enough to join him and the other men in the village and he went off to make war with Dracula's brides. But I was still too young, and I was left behind. When he returned, he was a man and too grown up to play with his baby sister. I had howled at the injustice of it all and screamed at them that I could not _wait_ to grow up and make my _own_ rules, that I would go on adventures and face foes beyond their wildest dreams. Now there I was, about to face Dracula himself. I carried Frankenstein's creature to Rome, passing through strange countries, through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. And I was terrified. If this was a real adventure, I did not like it. I longed for my brother's company, for my father's advice, but they were not there to guide me. I was alone in the forest with no one to tell me what to do or how to proceed; I had to make my own rules. If this was being grown up, I did not like it at all.

The trees were growing thicker, crowding around us—an unreal city of heavy boughs and twisting branches. The birds did not sing here. As we continued, I came to feel increasingly that I was not alone, that someone or something was watching me. And every so often, above the rushing wind, I could have sworn I heard the beating of wings.

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It was nearing twilight on the sixth day. The sun was obscured by thick clouds, but I could tell how late it was by the stillness of the woods, as all the creatures that lived there went to seek their leafy beds. I, on the other hand, had just abandoned mine. Rousing Carl and the monster, I went to go wash in the stream I had heard rushing nearby. Carl had warmed to the thing considerably, even calling it Adam, but I still could not bring myself to regard it as human. When I looked at it all I saw were Dracula's hideous offspring and my brother's sacrifice.

I had finished washing and was putting my jacket back on when I heard it. Somewhere, amidst the trees, a twig snapped, almost too quietly for my ears to discern. And then another, and another. It was too big to be a deer, too precise to be a bear, but whatever it was, it was getting closer. And then, as if he had always been, there he was, a tall, graceful figure in black lounging indolently against a tree. He shifted his weight and began to walk towards me, his steps long and languid, like those of a cat just awoken from its nap. Only his eyes betrayed his concentration, they were sharp, predatory, and fixed on me.

"Good evening, my princess," he said, smiling darkly, "you appear to be a bit far from home. Have you lost your way?"

I stood dumbfounded for a moment. He should not have caught up with us so quickly. My father had always told us that nothing was faster than Transylvanian horses, but then I was finding out that my father had been wrong about a lot of things. Stupidly, I began to back away, and he followed, slowly closing the gap between us.

"What are you doing here, Count?" I asked warily. I tripped over a root and almost stumbled, and still he advanced on me. Whatever I did, I could not let him know that I accompanied the creature, and that it was nearby.

"The forest is a dangerous place for one so fair," came his soft, even reply. He offered me his arm and his smile broadened, the glint in his eyes dangerous. "Perhaps you would permit me the honor of escorting you home." As he spoke he lunged for me. I bolted, not paying much attention to where I was running; I knew I had to get him as far away from the monster as possible. I heard him roar in anger behind me as I tore through the trees, branches snagging my clothing and scratching my cheeks, and still his footsteps pounded the earth, close on my heels. I wove blindly in and out of thick trunks and curling roots until at last the sound of his feet faded and the woods were quiet once more. By now the sun had set, the entire forest was painted in gold as the shadows of evening crept in. I ran to the nearest, tallest tree and climbed swiftly into its branches, lying low and pressing myself against its trunk.

After a few minutes, he came into view. His steps had become slow and disinterested once again and his hands were clasped behind his back. His chin was pointed towards the ground, but I could see his eyes glittering as he looked up at the trees. He paused directly under my hiding place. I hardly dared to breathe. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called softly. "You are very clever, my dear, but you cannot hide for much longer. Your heart is beating wildly, princess…it calls to me. Such beautiful music it makes, I can almost dance to it." He began to turn slowly, his arms clasped around an invisible partner, his feral eyes fixed on my tree. "Perhaps a waltz," he drawled, "or a polonaise," he moved faster, "or a tango?" He stopped suddenly, his eyes raised to my branch once more. "Or perhaps," he whispered, "something with a bit more lift?" and he launched upwards.

I threw myself down from my perch, hitting the ground at an odd angle. A searing hot pain shot down my left arm, my vision suddenly blurred. I scrambled to my feet and took off once more as he leapt back down from the branch with a yell. As I fled I looked down at my arm, my shoulder was hanging at a grotesque angle—I had dislocated it, perhaps even broken a bone, but I had no time to tend to it and so I forced myself to keep running.

I ran and I ran, looking wildly behind me, but there was nothing there. And then, as I broke out of the trees and into a clearing, I slammed into something solid and hard. Stunned, I fell back onto the ground, my head smarting from the collision. My shoulder had long since gone numb.

Dracula towered over me and laughed richly. "My lady," he said, "you run as if the Devil himself were after you." Before I could open my mouth to reply he was on me like some kind of beast, pinning me to the ground with his body and savagely seizing my throat with gloved hands. "Where is he?" he hissed.

"Who?" I choked. I prayed he meant Gabriel and not the monster. I knew that if I lied, he would know instantly.

"Do not make me repeat myself, highness." His words were forced through clenched, bared teeth and his eyes had become bottomless wells of black as his grip tightened. I struggled vainly, but I was trapped between his powerful thighs and the weight of his torso pressed me down into the earth.

"He's out there," I wheezed, "just like I said he would be. Gabriel's out there, unprotected, I swear it!"

"Oh? It is _Gabriel_ now, is it?" he smirked down at me, "what a charming new development." And then the smile faded once more, his beautiful mouth hardened and became twisted and cruel. "And where might dear _Gabriel_ be going?" I was struggling madly to breathe. He bent his head closer to my own. "I will not ask you again, my pet," he hissed, throttling me savagely, "_where is he taking the creature_?"

"Rome…" I rasped, my voice barely more than a whisper. I clawed desperately at his vice-like fingers with my right hand, but they did not budge.

"I beg your pardon?" he scoffed at me.

"_Rome_," I managed to say more loudly, "he's taking the monster to Rome…to the Order."

He cocked a brow, smiling again, but his tone was deadly. "Answer me one more question, dearest. If _he_ is taking the key to Rome, then what, pray, are _you_ doing here?"

I was on the brink of losing consciousness, my brain was desperate for blood and air, but I forced the words out. "Decoy…keep…the creature…away…from you." I did not lie—I was there to keep the creature away from him, but I was not the decoy, Gabriel was.

That seemed to satisfy him, however, and he released my throat, although he continued to sit heavily on top of me. I coughed and sputtered as I gulped down precious oxygen. "And you both departed at the same time?" he inquired. I nodded weakly. He delicately removed his gloves and then took my throat in his hand again, but this time to caress, not to choke. "Must I always drag information out of you by brute force?" he sighed, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes "it is most wearing."

"You have what you need, Count," I panted, trying again to pry myself out from under him, "now get off of me and let me go."

"Now why would I want to do that?" he said, smirking down at me suggestively. He dipped his body low, grinding his hips into me as he bent his dark head to whisper in my ear. "This position has many benefits, princess…" he ran his tongue lightly along my jugular and pressed his open mouth to my jaw. "Perhaps we should take advantage of the pleasures it affords us," he husked.

"You conceited pig!" I hissed, "I take no pleasure in your company!" I strained against him, trying to free myself from his grasp, but I only succeeded in closing the remaining distance between our bodies. His eyes grew brighter as I unwittingly bucked into him and I felt him stiffen between my thighs, the sudden contact shocked me. He bent his head to my lips but I angrily turned my head to the side and his mouth collided with my ear instead. A shudder involuntarily ran down my spine as he teased the lobe with his tongue.

"Why do you turn your face away, my love?" he purred, "you seemed to enjoy my kisses when last we met."

"I most certainly did not," I spat, although I knew it was a lie.

"Is that so?" he murmured, burying his smooth face in my neck. And I realized to my horror and shame that I _did_ want this contact, just like I had before—it was dark, forbidden, and delicious. The sensations that he was awakening in my body were frightening. I felt suddenly out of control. All the heat in my body pooled where his hardened desire teased me, fanning out in flaming fingers down my thighs, leaving me hot and aching. He was lightly kissing my collarbone, trailing his icy lips lower and lower, his masterful fingers teasing away my shirt from my chest. And then back up again, along my neck and over my chin. He paused, hovering over my mouth, and bit my lips gently, which were pulsing in anticipation of those heavenly kisses I knew he could bestow. But I wanted victory more than I wanted him, and I brought my knee up sharply and slammed it into his groin. He roared in pain and anger, doubling over, and I rolled out from under him and threw myself to my feet.

He was, however, too quick for me and his hand shot out and grabbed the collar of my jacket, yanking me back against his chest in a choke-hold. His face was twisted in rage, his voice jagged and inhuman. "You little viper!" he snarled. He leaned close to hiss in my ear. "I must advise you, my love, not to tempt my temper. I have been forgiving and generous with you up until now but, as I believe you know, I can also be cruel…"

"Generous?" I shot back, "how have you been _generous_, Count? You've seduced me, threatened me, taken away _everyone_ I ever cared for! I would hardly call _that_ generous." I wanted to kill him, to tear him slowly limb from limb and make him beg for mercy, but all I could do was pout like a petulant child. I was humiliated and furious with myself. Furious with him for reducing me to such a state. I had been trained my whole life for this confrontation, but now that it was upon me, the only weapons I could hurl at him were petty insults. And from the look of him, he was just as angry.

"I offer you your brother!" he roared. I winced as his arm crushed my wounded shoulder. "You defied me and I relented, you wept and I soothed you, you have disobeyed, betrayed, and disrespected me—knowing the consequences, I might add—and still he lives! I have spared both of your lives when I had due cause to take them, I have given you second chances when you deserved none, _everything_ I have done has been for _your_ benefit. Tell me, highness, that that is not generous!"

"I…" I began feebly.

"ANSWER ME!" he shouted, whirling me around and shaking me viciously, seizing hold of my injured shoulder in his rage. It felt as if daggers were shooting down my arm and my spine and I cried out in pain. Instantly he dropped it and released me. I stared at him with tears in my eyes, clutching my useless arm in silent agony.

He pulled me back into his arms, quite differently this time, all traces of anger fading from his handsome face. His voice came hushed and soothing in my ear and I stood spellbound as he gently reached up to touch my shoulder. "Let me see," he said softly, and bent his head to kiss it lightly. I gasped as I felt the joint snap back into place, the torn tendons and ligaments fusing together beneath his touch, the bruises melting away. For a moment we were still. I leaned against him, exhausted, and he tightened his arms. I was astounded, and slightly perturbed, that this monster who had preyed on my family for centuries and damned them to Purgatory, who had threatened to kill me on more than one occasion, would hold me so gently, healing my wounds, kissing away my pain. Why not just kill me and be finished with us all?

"Because you are mine," he whispered, as if he had read my thoughts. "I could never harm you." He began once more to kiss my neck, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, his hands splayed sensuously across my abdomen. "Yes, necessity breeds strange bedfellows, does it not? But it need not be _all_ unpleasant...I think you'll find I can be a most passionate lover..." His kisses were drugging, intoxicating, and once again I felt myself falling under his thrall. The heat between my thighs returned and a tightness began to coil in my abdomen as he continued to ravish me with his mouth. "I ask for so little, Anna," he purred into my skin, "just let me rule you and you can have everything you want." His hands began to make their torturous way up my torso, teasing my hot flesh, which burned under his icy touch. At last they reached my bosom, where they cupped, caressed, and pinched, drinking in my instinctive response. He sunk dull teeth into my shoulder, trailing love-bites up my throat to my jaw. "Obey me... he murmured between kisses, "and I will be your slave."

"Count…" I breathed. I was internally at war with myself. Every rational part of me screamed that I should pull away, that I should be fighting him. But an equally fierce, dark, wanton side reveled in his attentions and poured poisonous, honeyed words into my mind. _I wanted this...and he wanted me. Me__. And how could something that felt so good be wrong? _No, I knew that this was wrong, but I still didn't want him to stop.

"I would make you my queen," he whispered. And then he pressed his lips to my face, to either side of my mouth before seizing it in a searing, demanding kiss. I tried vainly to suppress a moan when his tongue pried open my lips and slipped inside, cool and silky, as it caressed my own. I had never felt anything like this before. This was pure, unadulterated passion, raw and animalistic, and it consumed me as I gave in to his demands and kissed him back wildly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He growled my name as his hands wandered lower, his fingers brushed lightly against the center of my body. And then harder. I gasped in surprise and delight, throwing my head back and arching against his hand. And then I didn't know about right or wrong anymore. I didn't know anything. I knew only that these foreign, silky sensations were unlike any I had ever known. It was as if my entire body was compressing, drawn into his long fingers that shamelessly kneaded and stroked. It was as if I was on fire. He grabbed my hips, pulling me towards him, and he thrust himself up against me, making me feel the lust that could so easily be consummated.

Right there, on the ground.

"He can never give you what you seek, pet…let me have him and be done with it, " he cooed against my mouth. The pictures he was painting in my mind with his body, his fingers and his tongue made it almost impossible to think. They were filthy, wanton, and dangerous, the kinds of things whispered about by ladies in waiting or confined to those forbidden books hidden away under the mattress. They were the kinds of fantasies someone of my station ought never to entertain, visions of hot, naked flesh and tangled limbs. But his words brought me sharply back to reality. _Gabriel_, I thought suddenly. _And Velkan._ I couldn't do this. I forced all of these forbidden urges aside and pulled away.

"And if he can?" I challenged breathlessly. "Why do you want him, Count? What value does he hold for you?" My mind was still swimming from his kisses, but I forced myself to be rational. There was something that the two of them were not telling me. Something was not right.

"As I already told you, that is none of your concern," he said shortly. "I must say, I wonder at your faith in him. I have known Gabriel for many years and believe me, my dear, he may talk sentimentally, but he will act mercilessly. He will not help you."

"And you will, I suppose?" My voice became heated. I was tiring of his games. I had given him the information he required, why did he still linger? The hour was late and we needed to leave. Carl would certainly be wondering where I had gone and I prayed that he and the creature would not come looking for me while Dracula was there. If they did, we would lose everything.

"I gave you my word, and I will honor that." His tone was simple and unreadable, but there was something in the way that he was looking at me... I shifted uneasily.

"_Why_?" I pressed him.

"Oh, highness, " he whispered, the mask suddenly falling from his face, "is it not plain enough?" He leaned in to kiss me again but I pulled away, averting my eyes. I would not be drawn back under his spell.

"You forget yourself, Count," I snapped.

"Surely you cannot blame me, my dear," he murmured huskily as his spidery fingers traced over my collarbone, "with such beauty before me." He was looking at me wolfishly, as if he wanted to eat me alive. It frightened me. "And so soft…" he caressed my cheek, "I can see you lying on a bed of satin"

"Stop it," I said more forcefully, jerking my face from his hand and glaring at him, blushing furiously. "I am not your plaything. You have brides to give you such attentions. Go home to them if that is what you desire"

"My princess…you must know I desire _you_...with all my heart," he said softly. I was shocked to see suddenly what looked like earnestness in his cold eyes. Slowly I raised a hand to his hollow chest, feeling the hard, sculpted muscles and the void beneath them. Where his heart should have been, where I should have felt some movement, there was nothing. I don't know what then possessed me to be so bold. I drew my fingers deliberately down his torso and laid them briefly over the stiffness in his breeches. I dropped my hand and raised my eyes unwaveringly to his.

"The heart is higher up," I replied acidly, "and one day, _my lord_, I will drive a stake through it. Go take your prize, and leave me be." I spun on my heels and stalked away from him, back into the trees.

"In time, my love," he called after me arrogantly, lustily. I looked back and saw him still standing there in the middle of the clearing, an imposing figure with his proud head held high, his eyes glittering with mirth. "In time."

Anger coursed through my veins as I stormed back through the forest. Anger and something else infinitely more powerful that I could not name. I know now that it was desire.

-----------------------------------  
-----------------------------------

The Count stood in the clearing long after Anna had disappeared into the trees, staring after her with an odd mixture of fury and longing. It had been a long time since he had been refused by a woman, and his body screamed in frustration and pent-up need, begging for some kind of release. A slight smile curved his lips as he thought about how she felt in his arms. She was so perfect, so innocent and unspoiled. He knew that no other man had ever touched her as he had done and that thought secretly thrilled him, that _he_ should be all she knew of desire. How easy it would have been to take her right there, to press her body down into the leaves on the forest floor and ride to Hell itself between her thighs...

In time, he reminded himself, in time. His plan was working flawlessly. Anna was right where he wanted her, trapped between a rock and a hard place. All the time now her body was calling out to him, begging him to take her. But then, she had always belonged to him, ever since she had been born. She just never knew it. He had been there when her mother brought her into the world, a tiny, screaming thing. He had watched from the shadows as she learned to walk and talk, and then later when she learned to fight and to kill. He had known all of her sorrows and all of her joys. He knew her better than she knew herself.

She had slipped away this time, but soon she would come running to him. And take her he would. The daughter of his greatest enemy would be his greatest trophy and he eagerly awaited the day when he would have her at his side, lovely, broken and submissive. She would sate his lusts and his vanity like no other ever could.

But there was something else that Dracula had not counted on, and of which he was not yet aware: just as she belonged to him, so he also belonged to her…

* * *

**That's all, folks. **

**Now, the next update will depend on the reviews that this one does/doesn't get. I'm not trying to be a baby about this or anything like, I just have way too much on my plate right now to continue to give this the time and priority I've been giving it if it's not worth it for you all. I'm writing for me but I'm updating for you, so if you want me to update, you know what to do.  
**

**A/N:** In case anyone wants a mini history lesson: the "Empire" is the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which, in the 1880s, included Transylvania. Wallachia was an independent principality, over which the Hapsburgs may (?) have had suzerainty. The most direct route to the coast would have taken Anna and Van Helsing through the northern part of the Ottoman Empire, ruled over by the Muslim Turks. Although the Sultan styled himself as a largely Western ruler and had strong-ish diplomatic ties with his Christian peers, relations between the Ottomans and the rest of Europe were somewhat strained in the wake of the Greek War of Independence (1821-1829) so Anna and Van Helsing would probably have avoided crossing into their territory, especially since they're traveling incognito.

The chapter title comes from the song "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak. The video, starring Helena Christiensen, is dead sexy, see for yourself on youtube.

**Thank You:**

**ForeverACharmedOne**: My most faithful reviewer! I was starting to think you're the only one who liked this story, and can I just tell you, I freaking love your reviews! Look for more love triangle drama in coming chapters. Ah yes…Carl…who knew that he was such an, ahem, animal in the sack? Thanks for making me feel less like a talentless sod. You rule.

**Elwydra:** Woo, lurkers of the world unite! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, don't be a stranger! Now, is there any chance that, in _your_ story, we can entice Van Helsing into tight lil' bathing trunks like in Casino Royale? I read an interview with Eva Green in which she said, about that scene, that Daniel Craig was the Bond Girl the film. Priceless.

**redjegger: ** Oh wow, I wish this was a signed review so I could have sent you a reply. That was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said about my writing—really, you have made the storm clouds that were childishly dancing over my head go away. I can't believe you indirectly compared me to _Tolkien_, excuse me, I have to go faint. The classics will keep coming, look for a cameo or two by T.S. Eliot. Again, your review made me smile, thank you so much for those lovely words.

**Shoysrock:** Another one of my faithful few, you rock my socks. And yes, M-rated goodness approaches, let me assure you. All I will say for now is chapter 13…yeah. I'm doing my best to keep this interesting, and I really appreciate your confidence :)

**Charmes Malheureux:** You write the best reviews! I was trying to use the scenes I recycled to shed new light on the characters, and I'm glad that you enjoyed/understood that. It was a tough decision whether or not to include many of them, and in the end I kept them in because I felt that they drew out Anna's conflicted opinion of Van Helsing and the depth/gravity of her situation as the sole surviving Valerious. I often (in academic writing too) have a problem with including too much information and not being as discriminatory/editorial when deciding what is and is not "necessary," and I'm bummed that it is so pronounced here. BUT you made me feel better. Yay! And I couldn't agree more, Nickelodeon is evil now. It used to be so awesome! I miss old school Nick—Inspector Gadget, Hey Dude, Salute Your Shorts, Cities of Gold, Are You Afraid of the Dark, The Little Koala, David the Gnome, etc…all this new stuff blows.


	7. Author's Note

Hi everyone:

Chapter 7 will be put somewhat on hiatus due to one of my Real deadlines getting moved up. I just realized I have to leave for a research trip to Italy in two weeks and I am drastically unprepared. I've got books to read and a dissertation proposal to write. I AM writing chapter 7, but it can't take priority right now. I'll get it up as soon as I can, I promise. I just wanted to let you all know the deal, I am _not_ discontinuing the story, just putting it on the back-burner.

I do want to thank you all for your amazing reviews and PMs, they have really meant a lot. I'll see you all soon!

**Clarification:** When I say hiatus I mean like 2 weeks, nothing major. I am gone from Aug 8th-16th, I hope to post chapter 7 before I leave and then chapters 8 and 9 when I get back. Onward! (I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...)


	8. The Journey of the Magi

**Hello hello!** Can I just say first that I'm **truly** touched and humbled by your _many_ kind reviews and PMs. I was having a crap week when I posted the last chapter, and then when I saw the dip in hits and reviews…let's just say it was Panic! At The Disco, except without the disco. Anyway, I got a much-needed reality check from the wonderful Charmes Malheureux and The Story Gypsy, so now it's more like Slight Anxiety! At The Disco. Damn, now I want to go dancing.

The last three weeks were pretty insane. I'm leaving for Italy in a few hours for a week of research, my proposal for my dissertation is due like now, AND my computer broke, which sucked. I managed to piece together the bits of this chapter I lost when my hard drive bit the dust, so I hope it's no worse for wear.

Truthfully, however, I struggled _a lot_ with this chapter, to the point where the version that I am posting now is more like a draft. The incredibly talented **Charmes Malheureux **has _very_ kindly agreed to look it over and when I get feedback from her, I may change parts of it, so _check back after the 16th._ The reason why I'm posting it now, rather than waiting for feedback, is just that I don't want to leave you all with nothing to read when I'm in Europe after I've already not updated in three weeks. Everyone should **send Charmes cookies **for being so awesome.

I am glad you all enjoyed the smut last time. Whenever I write stuff like that I think of Alison Janney's character in _10 Things I Hate About You_, Ms. Perky the Guidance Counselor, who spends most of her time writing romance novels on her laptop rather than dispensing helpful life advice. I even hear the silly "porno" music they play when she writes. I don't think I could ever refer to Dracula's manhood as a bratwurst though…ick.

**Whaaa? Narrator's POV? **As you probably noticed, I decided to punctuate the first-person with a third-person snippet. That will happen occasionally from now on. Normally I'm not crazy about this approach, as it tends to disrupt the flow of the narrative. The only person I've seen who can _truly_ pull it off to the point where it's seamless is hungry-student. When the third-person pops up, it will be used to reveal information about Dracula—his thoughts, his motives, etc.—that couldn't be related from Anna's perspective. I hope that they add rather than detract from the story. Now that that's out of the way…oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence.

**Dracula:** Well! Are you ready to write chapter six now?

**Anon E. Mouse:** Um, Count…

**Dracula:** If I recall, it is a most interesting chapter. I have much to do in it, don't I? How shall I inspire you…

**Anon E. Mouse:** Count, this is chapter seven.

**Dracula:** I beg your pardon?

**Anon E. Mouse:** I wrote chapter six three weeks ago.

**Dracula:** WHAT?! You wrote that chapter without me?

**Anon E. Mouse:** Well, you disappeared!

**Dracula:** I was hungry!

**Anon E. Mouse:** Really…hey, what's that on your wrist? –grabs his wrist and inspects— Um, Count, why are you wearing a wrist-band for the International Polka Convention in Chicago? That's an _awfully_ long way to go for a, ahem, bite to eat.

**Dracula:** --snatches wrist away—Oh, this thing? Err, is that what it's for? I just thought it was something pretty… --turns away looking really embarrassed—

**Anon E. Mouse:** Yeah, I'll believe that. Funny, I never picked you for the lederhosen type…

**Dracula:** --whips his head around and glares menacingly-- I would not say such things if I were you. Be quiet and write your chapter…if you want to live.

**Anon E. Mouse:** Ooooh I'm really scared. I'm quaking in my flip-flops…Listen honey, if you kill me then the story stops here and you won't get to explain yourself, and then you'll go down in history as just another smarmy braggart and emotional fuckwit, is that what you want?

**Dracula:** ……

**Anon E. Mouse:** I thought so. Now dance, Polka Boy, dance!

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Journey of the Magi**

I tore back through the trees, too angry to think. No matter how hard I tried to re-focus my mind on my task, I still felt the Count's hands on me, his lips on mine, his velvety embrace. Now deprived of his attentions, my body was crying out in protest of its sudden neglect. This was the beginning of a deadly addiction. I wondered how it could be that those powerful arms and hands, which could so easily snap me in two, which had led countess of my kinsmen to their deaths, how they could please me so.

Had I lost my senses completely? My God, I had all but made love to him in that clearing! I could not forget that he was the enemy—the last and greatest enemy—bound to me only by temporary necessity and a handshake. Had he bewitched me, that I would court destruction merely for a soft touch and honeyed words? He was a brute and a rogue, a murderer and a notorious ruiner of women, a vampire—I must not forget! That man could seduce the Blessed Virgin herself.

And yet his touch had been gentle, his gaze, albeit fleetingly, earnest. True, he had been vicious, but had he not then healed my wounds? Expressed concern, remorse even? Vowed never to harm me? He wanted me, he said he did, and there had been truth in all his looks. No man had ever wanted me before or touched me thus—my father had forbidden it. I was no common woman, but a princess and a warrior, destined to fight and, perhaps someday, to rule. When I wed it would not be for love but for honor. I could never hope for such kisses from a husband. Subconsciously I reached up and touched my lips, recalling the cool, satiny caress of the Count's mouth, the little flames that ran down my thighs and the heavenly tightness that had coiled in my body when he had touched me so intimately. How I wanted him! It would have been nothing, in that moment, to run back to him and have him take me in his arms, lay me down on the soft grass, and make me a woman in every sense. Velkan would never know…

I stopped dead in my tracks and slapped myself hard across the face. What was I saying?! How could my body betray me like this? My body had ever been my friend, a point of pride—not out of vanity, but out of practicality. It was strong, agile, and had always served me well in battle, but now it was a stranger. What in God's name had come over me, that I should desire a demon's embrace?

Yes, that was it, I reasoned. It was his _touch_ I desired, nothing more. I had never before known the intimate caress of a man, it was only natural that I should enjoy and crave such contact, wasn't it? I had taken no pleasure in _him_, only in the sensations he had created. I would have felt the same if it had been any other man, if it had been Gabriel…Yes, if Gabriel kissed me I would feel no different. And he would kiss me; I had seen how he looked at me, how his eyes had begged me in the monster's cave and in the courtyard by the carriages. His lips would be soft and tender, his touch chaste, safe, and warm, and unlike the Count, who sought only to sate his own selfish desires, Gabriel would mean it. Yes…he would kiss me and then I would know.

Somewhat reassured by these thoughts, I pressed on. I felt my breathing return to normal and my heart cease to race in my chest. I straightened my clothes as best I could and raked my fingers through my hair. Dipping my hand in the brook that gurgled along beside me, I wiped my eyes and face. It would not do to arrive back at camp so disheveled and flustered, I would have a difficult enough time as it was convincing Carl and the creature that I had merely gotten lost in the woods. They could never know where I had been or with whom, and they certainly could never find out where my true loyalties lay. My position was already precarious, one false move, one slip of the tongue, and I would lose it all.

My pace slowed and steadied as I continued, and I allowed my thoughts once more to return to Gabriel, as they had done more and more over in the days since we had left Vaseria. He had improved dramatically on closer acquaintance; his manners, while still brusque, had softened towards me somewhat, his impatience was less clearly marked. I recalled how vulnerable he had looked at the windmill, his passionate little speech back in the courtyard, his bizarre and ardent defense of the monster in the cave. The protecting warmth of his body and his smile, the asking in his eyes…But was he in earnest? Or was he using me too like the Count was, was he using me like I was using him? What is that old saying about first impressions…you never get a second chance to make one? Gabriel's sights were still trained on my brother's head, after all; I still did not trust him, no matter how much I desperately longed to.

Lost in thought, I drew closer and closer to my destination. Up ahead, several meters off, I could see the clearing where we had camped and I heard the horses impatiently snorting and stamping their feet. I heard the rattle of weaponry and then voices that seemed to say my name and I hurried to meet them. The monster sat shackled in the coach while Carl fretted and paced, talking rapidly with…_Gabriel?_ I was torn between embarrassment and dread. He should not have been there. Our plan had been to have absolutely no contact with one another until we reached Zadat, our roads were to have been far apart. His presence at our campsite could only mean that something had gone horribly wrong.

"Anna!" Carl squeaked, scurrying over to meet me at the edge of the clearing, "thank God!"

"Carl, what is he doing here?" I brushed past him and walked briskly towards Gabriel. The friar struggled to keep his torch lit as he trotted after me.

"What kept you? We thought something had happened," he continued to badger me.

"I got lost," I replied smoothly, " it was stupid of me, it won't happen again."

"But where—" he began again, fast on my heels.

"I said I lost my way and I apologize, Carl, I know we haven't got time to lose. Now what is he doing here? Does he mean to give the game away?" I snapped irritably. A pained expression crossed his good-natured face and he stood motionless as I continued to storm towards the center of the clearing. Perhaps I should not have spoken so harshly, but what right did he have to pry?

By that point I had reached Gabriel and one look at his face told me he would not swallow it all without tasting, as Carl, who was now standing over by the coach, seemed to have done. His body was tensed and his eyes were flashing. "Where were you?" he growled. He seized hold of my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. I felt my confidence begin to falter and my cheeks grow hot when I remembered the slightly impure thoughts I had entertained about him just minutes before.

"I went to wash and I lost my way, that's all," I said, hoping that he would press me no further. He was gazing probingly into my eyes and I had the sudden and awful thought that I might not be able to lie to him.

"Try again," he hissed at me. He was incensed, and for some unknown reason that upset me greatly. My stomach lurched and I felt a lump in my throat; my eyes burned and my lower lip began to tremble. Why was he so angry with me? And why did I find that thought so unbearable? _Look after yourself, Anna_, the voice inside my head warned, _no one else will. Look after Velkan._

"I speak the truth!" I hurled back at him. "As I have already explained twice to Carl, and once to you, I took a wrong turn by the stream and could not find the path back. I was careless and I have apologized for it, what more do you want?"

"For heaven's sake, lower your voice. Do you wish to announce our presence to the entire country? Send up a flare to let Dracula know our exact position?" Still gripping my arm, he marched me out of the center of the clearing, away from Carl, a short ways into the trees. He did not carry a torch and I strained to see in the gloom. "You're asking me to believe that someone of your skill and experience got lost in the woods, Anna? Forgive me if I find that a difficult mouthful to swallow."

"Then choke on it for all I care, the dish will not change. It's the truth."

"You're not telling me something," he insisted. Scarlet images of the Count's and my secret tryst flashed before my eyes and I was grateful that the shadows obscured my guilty, uneasy expression as I once again forced the lie.

"I have told you the truth, the whole truth," I whispered fiercely, "and I might ask the same of you. Are you a fool? You will give the game away by being here and then for what purpose will I have journeyed so far? All your planning will come to naught, Gabriel, we will lose everything if the Count finds us all together! What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he echoed incredulously. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but his tone was forceful and heated, his words rushed. "I should be leagues away by now! I was driving down my own road when I found Carl and the creature in a panic searching for you, combing the woods on foot. Did you have any care for what I might have thought? To see them horseless and to find you gone? For what _I_ might have felt?"

_What he might have felt_?? I suddenly realized how close he was standing to me, his face inches away from my own. Was it possible? My heart started to beat faster. "Why are we out here in the shadows? Come where I can see you, Gabriel, it's so dark."

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again it was in a different tone, quiet and hoarse. "You know nothing of the dark…" he said softly. "You were gone. I thought we'd lost you, I thought…I thought I might never see you again."

I took a slow, deep breath. He was going to kiss me, he had to, he _must_…he had to prove that the Count was nothing to me… "And that distressed you?" I whispered.

He murmured something inaudible and I summoned every ounce of seduction and femininity within my being, willing him to see me as the pliant maiden rather than the untouchable warrior, willing him to close the gap between our bodies. I hastily moistened my lips.

"It would have been hard, Gabriel, to never see me again?"

I heard him breathe my name, his hat lightly rustled the leaves as he tossed it to the ground, and then he was kissing me…

His lips were soft, and timid, barely brushing against my own. Unlike the Count, whose embraces were raw, demanding, and primal, Gabriel was hesitant, his kiss pure and unassuming. But when I responded in kind, it deepened and became more urgent. His tongue caressed my own, shyly at first, before growing bolder and venturing further into my mouth. His right hand sweetly cupped my cheek; his other arm was wrapped protectively around my waist. I felt safe in his arms and I kissed him back almost desperately, craving more of his warmth, his reassurance. He smelled like the forest, rugged and clean. _It was the same, it was just the same...it had to be the same. _Franticly I continued to kiss him. My arms crept around his neck and my fingers sank into his luxuriant, wind-blown hair. _Just the same_. Relief swept over me, only to be stopped cold. _No, it wasn't_.

It was a good kiss, passionate, even, but it was not the same. That realization hit me like a slap across the face and I pulled away, breathing hard, angry denial screaming in my mind and tears springing to my eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I should not have—"

"No, I'm sorry," I said quickly. Shame flooded my senses and I began to fiddle with my hands. I could not look at him. "I—we can't, Gabriel…we mustn't."

"No…but I—" he began. He stooped to retrieve his hat, dusting it off slowly. He sighed, clutching it close to his chest. "Forgive me, Anna. Please do not think ill of me for being so forward and impulsive."

"There is nothing to forgive," I offered awkwardly, my eyes still fixed on the ground.

"We should—"

"Yes." I took a step towards the clearing. He started to offer me his arm, but appeared to think better of it and hastily drew it back to his side. The distance between our bodies seemed all the greater after being pressed so closely together, but we both moved to increase it further, stumbling clumsily away from one another. We walked in embarrassed silence back to the clearing, Gabriel staying several paces ahead of me while I stared at my boots.

"Well _there_ you are," Carl said good-naturedly when we returned, seeming not to notice the awkward tension between us, "you both need to stop disappearing like that."

"Not now, Carl," Gabriel replied gruffly. He was rapidly crossing the clearing, heading back, I assumed, to his own carriage. "We don't have much time. Give me to the count of two hundred and then resume your road. I don't want to see either one of you until we reach the coast." He paused at the clearing's edge and looked back at me. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought I saw regret in his eyes. Regret and longing. "Anna," he called softly, "please be more careful." I nodded reluctantly, torn between wanting him out of my sight and wanting him never to leave me. Confused and disgusted with myself, I turned away angrily as he disappeared into the trees.

As Gabriel's footsteps departed, I heard the Count's silky voice purr in my head, _"he cannot give you what you seek, pet…"_ I remembered how he had taunted me that cursed, fateful night when I had agreed to his horrible bargain. _"__Believe me, princess, the day will soon come when I will touch you and you will beg for my favors."_ I wanted to cry out in rage and frustration. Even the sky mocked me, that deep, rich blue of early evening abruptly bringing to mind his eyes, darkly glittering with the knowledge of some unspoken secret under haughty brows. How naïve I had been to think that I could outwit that monster. All along I had unknowingly been playing right into his hands.

"This is foolishness, Carl, we can't outrun him forever," I said quietly. I have never been one to admit defeat, and I had not wanted to voice my doubts, even to myself, but in that moment they were overwhelming. If only Velkan had been there, he would have shared my burden. Already the Count had found us, although I could not tell them that. How much more time did we have until he returned with his harpies to retrieve the doctor's creation? For Velkan's sake, I was resigned to sacrifice Gabriel, but if we lost the creature too…

Carl grew suddenly grave and serious; his typical lopsided grin vanished. "I have known Van Helsing for over ten years," he said, "and I have yet to see him fail. Whether in God or man, have some faith, Anna. I believe all will be well."

I don't know why I suddenly felt like bursting into tears, but in my zeal to suppress them my words came out more harshly than I had intended. "How can you be sure?"

"Nothing is ever certain," he replied gently. I was slightly taken aback, unused to such gravity and thoughtfulness coming from Carl, childlike Carl who was always looking to others for advice, not dispensing it himself. "I don't claim to be an expert on these creatures—well, I do, but not in any practical sense—but I _do_ know Van Helsing. He would not lead you on a fool's errand. He was sent here to protect you, and he will stay true to his duty." He paused at the door to the coach and turned again to look at me. "When things are at their blackest, I often find comfort in prayer. The darkest hour is always just before dawn."

He stepped up, giving me a reassuring smile, and shut the door.

"He will break the teeth in their mouths," I thought I heard the creature say from inside, "and tear out the fangs of the young lions." _He can try_, I thought dolefully, _he can die trying._

Still uneasy, I climbed up to the top of the carriage and took the reins in my hands. All Carl's talk of faith and trust made me acutely aware of how much I had risked, and how much I wished to forget. As I urged the horses onward, I took one last look at the clearing. It would be nice, I thought, just to stretch out there on the grass and gaze up at the stars strewn across the sky, which were just beginning to show themselves as night descended; nice to just lie there with nothing on my mind except the cool breeze dancing across my face and the sounds of the forest… I suddenly felt tired all through. How far I was from my bed at home, from all familiar things…

A cold coming we had of it. That part of the country was rough, the ways deep, and the weather sharp. The wind had picked up and it whistled past my ears, whipping my cheeks and slapping the reins. The road had become significantly darker, thick shadows like inkblots were closing in all around us. Gnarled and twisted trees leered at me from either side. And now and again the little voice in my head, which had grown steadily louder in the hours since my encounter with Dracula in the woods, nagged at me that this was all folly.

I thought I heard strange whispers on the wind, shrieks and wails and beating wings, a lone wolf's howl. I whipped my head around to peer warily into the gloom behind us, but there was nothing. I looked up into the sky, still nothing. On either side, in front of us, there were only trees and the empty road. The wind dropped, and soon the only sounds were the dull taps of the horses' feet on the ground and the occasional jingling of their harnesses. But something was still not quite right…

The monster's voice suddenly shattered the silence, a strange, hoarse, unearthly call. It spoke as one possessed. "They're here..." it rasped, "they've come…"

I almost screamed in fright when I looked up and saw them hovering there, the Count and his two surviving brides, their hair and garments billowing in the wind as they hung motionless like three trees on the low sky. And then they descended upon us.

All was in confusion and the next minutes seemed a blur. I whipped the horses into a run and we charged through the forest, swerving to dodge them as they dove. They shrieked and snarled as they drew closer and still we thundered on. Above the din I thought I heard Dracula's inhuman roar, "it's Van Helsing we want, my lovelies! Go and take him down, hold him and his cargo, and leave the girl to me!"

We ran still faster, but he followed. This wasn't supposed to happen! I urged the horses off the road, hoping to lose him in the trees. They were reluctant at first, snorting nervously and shying away, but I drove them more forcefully and we plunged into the forest. It was risky—maneuvering one horse through the woods is difficult enough, never mind a team of six and a carriage—but it was my only option if I hoped to keep the creature out of the Count's clutches. Thankfully, these were Transylvanian horses; they were clever and agile, and they skillfully picked their way around trunks and over roots. Gradually the beating of Dracula's monstrous wings faded, his bellows ceased, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

We were coming up on another road and I was deliberating whether or not it was safe to take it when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gabriel come bursting into view, astride one of his horses, all of which were galloping madly. The carriage was gone; the harness was attached to empty air. With a cry he lept from his horse and on to the seat beside me. "They took the bait," he grinned at me breathlessly.

"And?"

"And at least one of Dracula's brides has been destroyed," he crowed.

Before I could reply, press him further, congratulate him, or even release the breath I had been holding since I'd seen him galloping down the road, something huge and tawny leapt out of the trees in front of the horses and sprung for us. It was Velkan.

No, no, _no_, this was _not_ how it was supposed to happen! Velkan was to be kept safe! What did the Count mean by sending him after us? He knew _I_ would not kill him, but Gabriel? Gabriel would pull the trigger without batting an eyelash. No, no this was all wrong! Oh, what a fool I had been!

We dove aside as he hopped across the backs of the horses and lunged onto the top of the coach. The lantern shattered, setting it ablaze. I toppled roughly over the left side and clung desperately to the door. We were driving along the edge of a deep gorge and I struggled to gain a toehold on the undercarriage as jagged rocks hundreds of feet below me flashed by. I desperately called Carl for help; my grip was slipping, a few more minutes, a jolt or a rough turn, and I would fall to my death.

With a final, valiant heave, Carl tossed me up onto the dash rail. I landed hard on my back, looking up at the carriage. A second later, Gabriel came hurtling towards me, propelled by the monster, who grinned at us almost heroically. The road had veered away from the cliff, back into the woods. We lay dazed on the dash for a moment, before snapping back to reality. Flames engulfed the coach and I heard the monster bellow in fright.

"Jump!" Gabriel shouted at me. I hurled myself over the side and he followed. The impact knocked the wind out of me and I gasped for air as I rolled away from the burning wreckage. The last thing I remember was seeing Velkan leap out of the inferno and Gabriel draw his pistol as they fell. Then everything went dark.

* * *

**And thus ends chapter 7, REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! **

As I said before, I am getting ready to run off to Milan and Urbino for a week to work on my dissertation proposal, so this will be my last update until I get back. I will (obviously) be bringing my laptop with me and I hope to write chapters 8, 9, and 10 when I'm alone, poor, and bored in my hotel room at night. I'll post those gradually when I get back (because then the stress/work will _really_ begin, leaving little writing time).

The chapter title is a nod to T.S. Eliot's poem of the same name and, if you look closely, you will find a few allusions to it throughout. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Eliot's work, I _highly_ recommend that you check it out, he is by far my favorite poet.

**BREAKING NEWS BULLETIN:** Oh my lord, as I was finishing this, I was watching the Scooby-Doo Where Are You? marathon on Cartoon Network. One particular episode was set at the Franken castle and featured, you guessed it, Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman. Oh, Stephen Sommers, the shame! Ripping off a cartoon… Oh, who am I kidding, it was AMAZING!

**Alrighty, I'll see you all on the other side! Or, as we say in Italia, ci vediamo sull' altra sponda! A presto, tutti voi, i miei cari lettori! Vi voglio sempre bene.**

**Grazie Mille/Thank You:**

**Athena Artanis**: A new reader/reviewer! Glad you like it!

**Agent Adina: **Don't worry, I'm not going to _stop_ writing, but I may be updating more like once every ten days now that things are busier. I can't promise you Anna and Dracula in _every_ chapter, but we'll be seeing more of them together for a little while now. Castrate Gabriel? Hmm, that's a little much perhaps. I don't like him either, but I think he can still be a sympathetic character. Hey, we know whose side I'm on. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you liked the smut.

**Shoysrock:** Again, you rule! I promise you much delicious M-ness in coming chapters.

**Elwyndra:** I know, I'm _slightly_ sympathetic toward Gabriel too, but who can resist Vlad SexyPants? Not I… He is, as you say, so deliciously seductive and, thus, really fun to write. Gabriel will have his moments though…before I kick him in the face! Oh snap! (See "In Which I Kick Harry Potter in the Face" by Draco and the Malfoys for further reference.)

**Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula:** Just think what would happen if we mixed Jareth and Dracula…Dracula in tights! (Actually that's kind of weird…) But I'm with you on the pompous rock star thing, yowza.

**liverpoolfan:** Another new reader/reviewer! Thanks for the feedback, I'm really glad you like it so far. I'm not giving up…I've been detained a bit in the Slough of Real Work, but that's better than the Slough of Despond, right? 

**ForeverACharmedOne:** Where would I be without your reviews? Probably off sulking in the corner…hehe. Glad you still like Señor Draccy-Pants. That lucky biatch gets to hit the dance floor with him…I WANT TO DANCE WITH DRACULA! Granted it's been years since I learned, so I'd be confined to the waltz or, maybe, the fox trot, but still, no fair! Your reviews always make me smile.

**Lorien Urbani:** Yay! You're back! You need to warn me before inflating my ego like that ;p. But I do wish that Stephen Sommers had put a bit more thought into his characters, the _homages_ to classic films and cartoons and the effects can only draw you in to a certain extent. Anyway, thanks so much for reviewing, I adore you. Vladdy says hi back, by the way. He said to tell you that he likes you better than a certain mean, tyrannical authoress he could mention because _you_ are nice to him and reveal him to be more than a sociopathic murderer. He didn't say anything beyond that though, because then I kicked his ass and made him cry like a little girl. Bwahahaha.

**LucyLu22:** Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it so far, thanks for the encouragement!

**The Vladislaus Dracula:** Oh dear, no crying is allowed on this site! Hehe. No worries on the late review, I'm just psyched you're reading and enjoying, and I'm looking forward to more feedback. Thanks for the review!

**cheryljulia:** Wow, thanks! Best story yet? I don't know about that, there are some AWESOME ones up here (check out Ink on a Page, Search for a Past, The Principle of Evil, Before Eternity, and The Brighter Side of Death, they are all way better than mine IMO), but thank you (_seriously_) for the compliment, now I'm grinning like an idiot.  Dracula is pretty swoon-worthy, I agree. Anna is tricky, I actually _really_ don't like her in the film, so this has been an interesting challenge. Thanks again!

**soundarch: **I hope my update re-assembled your dashed hopes, and thank you so much for the feedback and compliments, they are much appreciated! Off to Italy I go, where hopefully I will write some more and maybe even get some Real Work done haha. Stupid real life, all work and no play does indeed make a dull and unhappy writer.

**TheStoryGypsy:** Wow! A review (or two) from you! I think you know how much I love your work, so this means a LOT to me. Anyway, I already flooded your inbox with long insane replies to your awesome reviews, so I'll just say again how flattered and touched I am that you are reading, reviewing, and enjoying. Poor Anna…you know she was secretly looking for an excuse to do the mattress mambo with SexyBackDrac. Tee hee hee…

**AnnaDracula:** I'm glad you like it, thanks for the review! I promise more sexiness in upcoming chapters. Especially chapter 14…

**Elizabeth Athineu: **And a review from you! Glad you liked the LOTR homage, more to come! I tend to wear my influences on my sleeve. Can I just say how much I freaking love your work? Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!


	9. Game Over

**I'm baaaaack!! Did you miss me?** **The notes below were written in Italy, but I'm back in the States now, getting ready to start the school year (blargh).**

_Ciao tutti_ and greetings from Milan! If you don't mind, I'd like to share a _bit_ about my trip so far. So I was in a bookstore earlier looking for some Italian history books that you can't get in the States (unsuccessful, boo!), and I wandered into the DVD section because I'm a slacker like that. What do you think I found, but good old _Van Helsing_, subtitled in Italian, on sale for only 9 euro—the deluxe version was only 12 euro! (I guess it wasn't a huge hit over on this side of the pond either.)

Things are going OK here, although the _one_ museum that I _desperately_ needed to go to is closed in August, something that all the books failed to mention (so mad). I got the catalogue at another gallery though, so it wasn't a totally wasted errand. My Italian is slowly coming back to me, although I find I've forgotten key words like "next to" and "spoon." One of the things I hate the most is when people in foreign countries automatically assume you're (a dumb) American and give you English menus/start speaking to you in English, it's a pet peeve. Well, tonight I decided to take myself to dinner and when I was outside the restaurant looking at the menu I started absent-mindedly looking at an English translation (WTF? Clearly I needed a nap. Or a drink) and the hostess looked at me like I was insane, and was like "um, the menu is over here," indicating the Italian version, and then we had a nice chat about how mosquitoes are disgusting. Score! I don't know why, but that made my night. I'm authentic! Haha.

Anyhoo, I'm writing this while sitting in my teeny hotel room trying to overcome serious jet lag. I don't have the inter-truck here, but I'm looking forward to an inbox full of reviews when I get back! (Let's see if this author's note can be a self-fulfilling prophecy…)

Going back is going to be really weird. Two of my roommates, whom I've lived with since starting grad school three years ago, have finished their programs and are moving on to bigger and better things. They're the only ones left of my original housemates (and were there before me too) and are very near and dear to my heart. One of them will be gone when I get back, the other will be packing. They've been two of the most important people to me at UM, and I _really_ don't know what I'll do without them. They've been my support system, they've been my mentors; they've, in a way, watched and helped me grow up. It's more, really, than saying goodbye to a friend…it's like I'm saying goodbye to my home.

I don't know why I'm sharing this with you people, I guess it's partly being alone in a foreign city, and thinking of home, and thinking how altered that home will be when I see it again… Lord, I'm turning into Emo Anna! Sorry. Anyway, that's kind of where my mind is right now, so please forgive me if this chapter is a bit melancholic.

**Onward.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Game Over  
**

_Do not stand at my grave and weep;  
I am not there. I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow,  
I am the diamond glints on snow,  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning's hush,  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
I am not there. I did not die. _

-Mary Frye

----------

When I came to some time later, I felt sore all over. It was close to morning and the sky was a pale purple. A thick fog engulfed the woods, muffling the calls of the birds that were just beginning to stir in their nests. I pulled my jacket more tightly around my shoulders, shivering as I sat up and surveyed the scene around me.

Several meters away, the charred remnants of the carriage smoldered; a few embers still glowed weakly. The horses' harnesses had been severed, thankfully, and I heard one of them whinny nearby. To my right, partially hidden under a bush, Carl lay motionless, curled up on one side, his limbs splayed out like a doll dropped carelessly on the floor by a small child. Fearing the worst, I struggled painfully to my feet and rushed over to him. I reached to check his pulse—it was slow and even, his chest rose and fell slightly with each short breath. His lip was bloodied, a large purple bruise was forming on his temple, but he was alive. The others were nowhere in sight.

Careful not to wake him, I gently pulled him further underneath the bush and out of sight. His sandy hair was more disheveled than usual and it was matted to his brow with sweat and dried blood. I brushed it back from his face and drew his robes more snuggly around him, the way I imagined his mother might have done, or someone else who cared for him. I wondered what she must have felt when her son announced his calling and left the bosom of his family for the cloister, and how sick she would be with worry if she knew where he was now, alone and wounded in a land full of darkness and evil creatures. I wondered if I would ever hold my own child in this manner, and comfort him the way that I did hers as he slept. I wondered if I would survive this war at all, or if I would meet my end before knowing the full joys of womanhood.

Thus lost in thought, I almost did not notice the small spot of blood on the ground beside me. I might never have seen it at all, had I not been fiddling absently with the fallen leaves and almost brushed my fingers through the sticky smear of crimson. Curious, and slightly uneasy, I picked up the stained leaf to examine it more closely. The blood was fresh, it was still glossy and liquid, and though I dared not touch it, I thought madly that it might even still be warm.

Fear and trepidation consumed me; I had no idea what had happened while I had been unconscious and my mind was suddenly assaulted by all manner of gruesome, disastrous scenarios. Had the Count successfully retrieved both the monster and Gabriel and gone back on his word, leaving me in the woods to die? Had Velkan slain them both? Or had he been felled by one of Gabriel's bullets? Or had the crash claimed all of their lives?

Before I could dwell too heavily on any of these possibilities, however, I saw another spatter, several feet away, and then another and another. The drops were larger and farther apart; whatever it was that made them was bleeding heavily and moving fast. But before long, the distance between them grew shorter once again and the droplets became dribbles and splashes. There were gouges in the earth, as if the wounded creature had stumbled and fallen to its knees. And then the splashes became smears and the gouges, long ruts—whatever it was had fallen and in these last, agonizing meters, had dragged itself along the ground as its life's blood soaked into the earth.

As I came upon a cluster of rocks in a small clearing, I heard the sounds of coughing and jagged, labored breathing, and the sickening hiss of an open wound. I hesitated, afraid of who or what I might see lying there. If I did not look, perhaps it would not be real… With my eyes half-closed, I rounded the corner. Sprawled on the ground, up against a rock, was a body that I had not seen so uncovered since I had been a small child. Velkan lay there, shivering in nothing but the shredded remnants of his trousers, gasping for breath, a gaping, blackened hole in his chest.

My insides went cold and I felt my heart plummet to my stomach. _This was not real_. I was beginning to feel as if I could not breathe. My vision started to blur, my legs buckled under me, and I retched into the bushes. Someone was screaming. No…no, no, _no_. Why did I not wake? This was a nightmare; it had to be a nightmare. _Why did I not wake?! _I fought back thick, hot tears as I fell to my knees beside my brother.

He was dying. The wolf's curse had completely ravaged his body; it was hard to believe that this was the same young man whom every girl in our village had been madly in love with, the jewel of our family, the victor of three wars. He looked as though he had aged fifty years in less than a month. His sallow skin sagged loosely over protruding bones, his hair was thin and matted, and his once sharp, gentle eyes stared madly in different directions and bulged out from deep sockets in his drawn, skull-like face.

When I was small and fell and scraped my knee, or awoke sobbing for a nightmare, it was always Velkan who had comforted me, putting his arm around me, taking me up to the tower to read to me from dusty books full of fairy stories, gifting me with a prized possession. Now it was my turn to comfort him. I gathered my big brother in my arms and held him close…he seemed suddenly so small and fragile. The wound in his chest was festering, I could see the silver's poison working its way through his veins like an ink blot on paper, spreading throughout his broken body and snuffing out the unnatural life within it. All the sounds around us blurred in my ears and became a roar. I think I whispered his name.

"Anna?" he called. His voice was gravelly and strained, as if he was fighting for control over his body and losing; his eyes, dilated and out of focus, looked past me wildly. Every ragged breath was an effort. His hand was feebly groping the air and I suddenly realized, to my horror, that he could not see me. I reached out and grabbed it, and held it tightly in my own.

"You're just fine, Velkan," I whispered, my tears flowing freely, "I'm right here with you."

He was shaking violently and I pulled him closer, smoothing his hair back from his wasted face that had once been so handsome. His eyes seemed to focus and, for one fleeting moment, I thought he looked at me.

"Anna…my beautiful baby sister," he choked, specks of blood appearing on his cracked lips. "Forgive me…"

For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say to him. Never before had I felt so helpless. I had vowed to save him and I had failed; I should have been begging _his_ forgiveness. "Shhh, don't speak…no, Velkan, there is nothing to forgive," I insisted, and stroked his forehead. He looked so frightened. "Velkan…please try. Stay with me," I pled with him, "please just stay with me! I can't do this without you! Please don't leave me alone…"

"Anna—" he gasped. He shuddered and his breaths became panting, and I realized he had only seconds left before his soul departed this earth. There was no more time for begging...this was the end. These were the last words.

"I swear to you I will avenge you, do you hear me? I swear it!" I whispered fiercely. "I will finish this! Velkan, look at me!"

His eyes rolled back in his head and he drew one last, agonizing breath. And then he breathed no more. The light in his eyes went out, his jaw went slack, and his body collapsed heavily into my arms. My brother was gone. I bent down and softly kissed his forehead. "I _will_ see you again," I promised him. And I promised myself that his spurs would sit on a cushion beside me at Mass every Sunday until it was finished, like those of all the fallen soldiers, so that all our people would know that he had kept his honor until the end. The forest had gone suddenly quiet, as if the birds too were mourning his passing. I wondered, were I to look up, if I would see them standing on gnarled branches with their heads bowed in a silent salute.

I sat on the forest floor numbly clutching his body for what felt like an eternity. I knew that I could not linger, that I ought to be looking for the others, but I could not bring myself to move. I could not bring myself to let him go. I thought somehow that if I could touch him then he was real and still with me, but that if I let him go then he would disappear into memory and be gone forever, a ghost wandering the empty halls of my heart. For as long as I could remember, I had been my brother's shadow, and now he had gone where I could not follow. With no one there to rebuke me for my weakness, I collapsed against his motionless chest and wept.

I imagined then what I had not allowed myself to imagine before: the silent ride back to Vaseria and the resumption of my life back home without Velkan. With the bargain that had been driving me for the past weeks gone, there would be little there to console me or urge me on. There would be little reason for any of it. There would be only the inevitable questions about where I had gone and what had become of the stranger I had lodged in the manor, the unspoken disappointment at my failure, the pitying glances and empty words of comfort when I walked the streets alone, the closed door to Velkan's bedroom, and the tomb that would no longer be empty—unless, of course, Gabriel forced me to leave him behind and bury him here by the sycamore tree where he fell. Above all, I dreaded that closed door.

And then there would be the Count to reckon with. What would be between us, I wondered, now that the bargain was no more? I detested him then more than ever before—for the things he had made me feel and do, the way he brought me to my knees with the simplest touch. How could I face him alone, and how could I face the shameful desires he stirred up in me with his wicked glances and honeyed words? With his sinful lips and hands? And Gabriel…how would I face Gabriel, whose hesitant affections were, I had reluctantly admitted, no comparison to the flames that the Count stroked between my thighs? My eyes fell to the scorched hole in Velkan's chest and all pleasant memories of Gabriel's caresses fled from my mind…yes, how indeed would I face the murderer of my brother? What would I say in response to his cool, self-righteous defense of his actions, his empty words of sympathy, and his callous insistence that we stay the course?

I had seen this coming, I knew I had. Ever since the first night of our acquaintance when he had drawn his gun on Velkan, knowing whom it was he shot at, Gabriel had been out for blood. How foolish I had been to trust a hope that when the moment came he would stay his hand, that he cared enough for me to spare the brother I loved… And in that moment all the gentle feelings towards him that had been growing in my heart were stifled and replaced with vengeful bile; those parts of me that had grown soft, I willed to harden. I silently vowed to myself that he would be Gabriel to me no more.

I heard a step behind me and I felt a hand on my shoulder. Almost blinded by tears, I looked up. I could not believe I had once thought his face beautiful, his eyes warm; I stared at him, consumed by anger and hatred. Never before, I thought then, had anything seemed so hideous to me as his unfeeling, expressionless features, his detached, judgmental gaze. I flew at him in a rage, beating him with my fists and pushing him savagely up against a tree.

"You killed him!" I choked, "_you killed him!!_" I assaulted him with desperate blows and angry words and he allowed it. I wanted to elicit some kind of response—a word of regret or compassion, an angry retort, anything, but he just stood there impassively. At last he spoke.

"Now you know why they call me murderer." His tone was gentle but to me it sounded disinterested, and I did not see the sorrow in his eyes. His hands gripped my arms and he held me away from his body, denying me the warmth and comfort that I had already made up my mind to refuse, should he have offered them to me.

"I could have saved him!" I cried, tearing myself from his grasp and shoving him roughly again. "I _would_ have saved him! I was so close!"

"You could never have saved him!" he snapped harshly, pointing an accusing finger at me, "I told you this the first night we discovered him, but you would not listen to sense! There was nothing left of your brother inside that demon, he was beyond our aid; if I hadn't stopped him, he would have gone on killing and disgracing your family's name for God knows how long!"

"Do not _presume_, _Mr. Van Helsing,_ to speak to me of honor and disgrace!" I railed at him.

"Anna…" he said softly, and tried to hush me the way one sometimes soothes a crying babe, tenderly but with a hint of exasperation. I would have none of it.

"No!" I insisted. "I will not be lectured to by a common murderer whose face is splashed across wanted posters all over this godforsaken continent! You told me that you understood forgiveness, that you asked for it often, but you know _nothing_ of granting it!"

He sighed wearily and reached a leather-clad hand to brush my cheek. "Anna…" he tried again.

"Don't _touch _me!" I raged, slapping his hand away. "You were not here when he gave himself up to God, you did not see the love in his eyes!! And now you have taken away the only family I had left, leaving me alone in this world. He _was_ my brother still, and I would have redeemed him if not for you and your overdeveloped trigger finger!"

"Then you're a silly girl," he snarled, his expression suddenly hardening, "I thought you were a soldier! Where is your courage?"

I snapped. I was hysterical, exhausted and heartbroken, and in that moment I forgot myself entirely. I thought only of proving him wrong and the words tumbled from my lips before my rational mind could rein them in.

"I had the cure!" I roared. Van Helsing's eyes suddenly snapped up to meet mine, his gaze sharp, inquiring, and deadly.

"What…" he asked slowly, evenly. Too evenly. But I was already lost and I recklessly continued.

"The cure was mine! Dracula promised it to me, I had all but paid the price! And now you've thrown away all I was working for, you have destroyed _everything_!!" I raised my hand to strike him but he caught my wrist mid-swing in an iron grip.

He brought my arm down hard in front of my body and advanced on me slowly. "How?" he hissed. "Why would he give it to you?" My mouth went dry with sudden fear. I tried to back away but he seized me by the shoulders and shook me, his face inches from mine. His movements seemed oddly awkward, painful even, but his voice was steady, low, and menacing and his breath was hot against my cheek. "_What price?_"

I did not answer. My eyes had dropped to his chest, where his coat had fallen open to reveal a gory wound. His shirt was soaked through with blood and deep, jagged lacerations marred the flesh beneath. Tooth marks. He had been mauled by a large beast, and I knew instantly what manner of beast it had been. I raised my eyes to his in sickening horror, and yet I could not help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction at Velkan's last and perfect act of revenge. Now Van Helsing, so sure that my brother had been evil to the core and beyond redemption, would become the very creature whose destruction he had championed.

"My God," I gasped, "you have been bitten…"

If he heard me, he did not acknowledge it. His eyes bore into me like daggers and he tightened his hold on my shoulder. I felt suddenly dizzy with fright. The realization of just what I had revealed in my moment of hysteria was finally dawning on me and I was beginning to panic—he wouldn't, he _couldn't_… I stumbled over a loose rock on the ground and still he continued to drive me backwards. "Do not make me ask you again," he said darkly. His right hand reached for his revolver. The tingling in my nerves that had begun the instant Van Helsing had entered the clearing became a roar in my ears. "Anna, _what have you done?_"

But before his fingers could close around the handle, a blur of black hurtled us apart. I looked up, dazed, and saw the Count standing there with his fangs bared, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"DO NOT TOUCH HER!!" he roared, shoving me behind him, shielding me with his body. He turned to look at me sharply, "I suppose you think you're terribly clever," he hissed.

I opened my mouth to protest, but fell silent when I saw the look in his eyes—it was murderous. "Enough!" he whispered fiercely, "I will deal with you later!" And then his features relaxed somewhat, although his gaze lost none of its menace, and he flashed his acid smile. "Hello, Gabriel." Van Helsing was struggling to his feet and the Count moved towards him stealthily, like a great cat. "I'm sorry our little chat was cut short last time, although, if I recall, the fault was not mine," he said silkily. "A pity this visit must be truncated as well… But fear not, my friend, I will not let you slip away so easily this time—unless of course you wish to abandon the princess in my clutches?" Van Helsing's eyes flashed, though he said nothing, and the Count laughed lightly. "No? I thought not. Soon you and I must have a long talk, Gabriel."

I gaped at him, hypnotized. His movements were precise, magnetic, his voice—so soft and steady—was spellbinding, awesome even. I found I could not take my eyes off of him; his hatred was palpable and it was breathtaking to see.

The Count eyed Velkan's corpse, strewn ignobly on the ground, and he sighed knowingly. "What a shame…how does it feel, my old friend, to be called 'murderer' once more? I warned you all those years ago, did I not, that others would not view your…_charge_ in such a favorable light?" he sneered. His voice was still quiet, but the whiplash was beginning to come into it. "And now you have taken another innocent life, another loved one. Tell me, _friend_, who is the monster now?"

"Stand aside, Dracula," Van Helsing panted, looking past him to where I stood, "my quarrel is not with you today."

The Count cocked a disdainful brow, sheer devilry in his eyes. Devilry and loathing. But he moved so that his body yet again stood as an impenetrable wall between us. "Oh, is it not?" And then his words came fast and thick. "What chance do you think you have in this war?" he hissed, leaning menacingly towards Van Helsing, who had staggered back in pain, clutching his chest as the poison from Velkan's bite coursed through his body. "I could break you both right here with my bare hands…like snapping a twig! When the time comes, Gabriel, make no mistake, I _will_ find you, and you will beg for death before the end! Just as you have made countless others beg. Just as you made _her_ beg."

I could not see the Count's face, but I knew full well that his eyes had become a pitless black, his regal features twisted with demonic rage. Van Helsing just looked baffled—as baffled as I was by those last words—and my suspicions that he held some unknown value to the Count came rushing back to me, as did his account of their meeting at Castle Frankenstein and his insistent, almost abusive questions about their mysterious past. Something about this entire thing was off. Something was being exchanged between the two of them that I knew nothing about.

"Enough with the riddles," Van Helsing said brusquely. "Now stand aside!"

The vampire's shoulders—straight, powerful, elegant—showed no sign of yielding. He shook his head slowly, and, when he spoke, every word was laced with sadistic malice. "Ahh…it must be such a burden, such a curse…" he drawled.

Before he could say more, however, he was interrupted by the sounds of hurried footsteps and Carl came running through the trees. He skidded to a halt at the sight of the Count, his eyes wide with surprise and fright. Dracula only chuckled softly. "But perhaps," he took a studied step backwards, "that is a conversation for another time. You see, my young friend," he looked over to Carl, whose mouth was hanging agape, "I do not find it sporting to duel a wounded opponent. Never say that _I_ am without a sense of honor." When he turned back to Van Helsing, I could see the corner of his mouth, curved upwards in a sinister smile. "Come and find me when you're fit, Gabriel, and we will dance, you and I! Until then, I take my leave." He bowed deeply. "Come along, my dear," he whispered icily in my ear, and before I could move to stop him, he gathered me roughly in his arms like a rag doll.

"Let me go!" I shrieked, struggling wildly, kicking and clawing at him. But he held me steadfast.

"Sleep now, pet," he purred.

I saw the others start towards us, shouting, panic on their faces. And I saw the Count's face begin to change too, although I can't exactly say how. The earth was suddenly rocketing away from us, the wind rushed past my ears. The air was growing thin—my lungs burned and my vision swam. _What was happening? Where was I?_

"Sleep now…"

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**E punto.**

**OK kids, I'm off like a prom dress in June. But what will Van Helsing do now that he has discovered Anna's duplicity? How will Dracula react to their little ruse with the carriages? Who is this mysterious "her" that Dracula referred to? What are the details from Van Poophead's sordid past?**

**All will be revealed soon, but only if you review! So REVIEW! (Pretty please?)  
**

**A/N:** The sometimes abrupt changes in the way that Anna names the other characters (e.g. "Van Helsing" vs. Gabriel) is intentional and significant. She switches from the impersonal to the personal/formal to the informal depending on her trust and feelings for that character at that given time. Just in case anyone found it confusing…

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**As always, Grazie Mille:**

**Shoysrock:** Once again, thank you kindly, m'am! Van Helsing can't stop the rock! (Download "Voldemort Can't Stop The Rock" by Harry and the Potters –genius.)

**Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula:** Yeah…Anna is having a rough few days. She doesn't trust Draccie quite yet though, she's not really sure whom to trust (especially after this chapter, I'm so evil!). But I am inclined to agree with you: as a general rule it is a bad idea to trust a polygamist vampire. This is not _Big Love_. Thanks for R&R-ing!

**liverpoolfan:** Ah, the workload. You see, one might _think_ that graduate school means that you will have summer holidays forever, but that is in fact a big lie—those bastards! You're right, Draccie seems to still be a bit abashed that I uncovered his secret obsession with polka. Who knows where we'll catch him next—a Star Trek convention? Playing Dungeons and Dragons? I am very worried about our favorite bloodsucker, he seems to have caught an acute case of Loser-itis. Tee hee.

**ForeverACharmedOne:** You're back! I'm back! Yay! You? A waste of drooling-over-Dracula space? Please tell me you're joking. Not only is there no such thing (oh, so much drool…) but, if there were, you would be the farthest thing from it. Van Haven? I've seen the outtakes but perhaps I should watch them again. And while I'm inclined to agree with you (um, clearly Dracula is better than Van Douchebag), a lady never runs. I'm glad you liked the chappie!

**Lorien Urbani:** Wow, this is one of the most amazing reviews I've ever received, thank you! Really, your compliments mean more than I can say. I am a _huge_ admirer of your prose, so I'm very, very flattered. I'm very fond of words, and I'm glad you think I'm taking good care of them—they _are_ my babies! I too can't stand it when historical characters start speaking like they live in the hood…in the 21st century hood, so I certainly savvy. Ha! Big Daddy Strauss, that's awesome. Anna has been trying but fun to develop, I'm really glad you like her! I definitely wanted to make her more critical and more vulnerable because, I agree with you, she's such a robot in the movie. Right now she's not sure whom to trust, and she certainly doesn't trust her own feelings. It will take her a long time before she makes up her mind. And the kiss…I'm relieved it was a good kiss, because I just smashed that whole relationship to smithereens in this chapter, bwahaha! Grazie per m'avere scritto in italiano! Infatti, Roma è una città bellissima però non ero là quest'estate. La biblioteca Vaticana è chiusa addesso, sono stata solamente a Milano ed Urbino quindi. Un buon sogno…veramente! (Il mio italiano è anche arrugginito, ma sei brava tu!)

**Clara**: A new reader! I'm touched you read and liked my crazy, dorky essay, it was an interesting exercise to do and I'm glad that others enjoyed it too. Nerds of the world, unite! Thanks for reviewing!

**Rezangel92:** Is your penname an NIN reference? If so, rock on! Aleera will make an appearance next time, and she won't be too pleased about what's been going down.

**I wish there were more of you to thank.** **Really, I'd love to get feedback: what you liked, didn't like, anything goes. But no flames! A recent review sounded suspiciously like a flame and I was not happy about it. Concrit equals good, flames equal boo. I want to know what you think! REVIEW!**


	10. Help Me I Am in Hell

**Greetings fellow fictionistas!** I'm sorry this took so long, I've been sick, busy, and feeling _very_ uninspired of late. I started this chapter in Italy, where I wrote more of the mini-travel blog I started last time, but I have since returned (and then gone back to Europe, and then returned—insanity!) and will, I think, be in the good old US of A for a while. The travel notes are not quite as applicable now as they were before, so I put them at the end in case people are actually interested in my European adventures.

This chapter is…extreme, and is half of what I had originally planned to give to you. My reasons for splitting it into two chapters are: a) both sections are pretty heavy, putting the two of them together could kill some of the more subtle points and be overwhelming and b) I haven't tweaked the second half to my liking yet, but I kind of need to update this thing. So when you read the next chapter, remember that they both take place roughly at the **same time.**

Before I get started, I want to say **thank you** for the many reviews y'all have gifted me with since last time, they made my day each and every time! A _**special**_** thank you** is in order to **TheStoryGypsy**, who not only read and commented on a draft of this chappie _but also_ very kindly sent our Mutual Friend over to entertain me while I lay sick and dying with a nasty cold and two ruptured eardrums. We had a gay old time. And, of course, to the wondrously talented and outrageously funny **Hell Harpie**, whose suggestions were invaluable and whose emails always make me laugh. We need to decide where we are going to register. I vote for the American Girl store, I have a sudden, deep need of numerous overpriced dolls and pithy literature.

OK, enough funny. It's time to put my emo hat on. ;p

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**Chapter 9: Help Me I Am In Hell**

_I never thought that I would find myself  
In bed amongst the stones,  
The columns are all men  
Begging to crush me,  
No shapes sale on the dark deep lakes  
And no flags wave me home._

_  
In the caves  
All cats are grey,  
In the caves  
The textures coat my skin,  
In the death cell  
A single note  
Rings on and on and on…_

-Robert Smith

-------------------- 

Rain gently rattled the windowpane. I sat on the sill with my knees drawn up to my chin, staring blankly at the patterns the drops made on the glass. Off in the distance, a bell sounded the hour and horses' hooves and carriage wheels clattered over cobblestones. Faint voices reached my ears--men talking, a woman laughing. The night sky was not as dark here as it was at home and flickering gas lamps punctuated the gloom.

But where was here? I had awakened in a strange room with not a soul in sight. Shivering, I had drawn the bedclothes more closely about myself, burying my face in smooth, dusky white linens and huddling beneath a heavy down coverlet. My first thoughts were of the night I met Van Helsing, when he had knocked me unconscious to keep me from going after the Count. But this was not my bed at home with the quilt my mother made me; this was not my room with the blue butterflies on the walls. I was lying in an enormous four-poster bed made of gilded ebony with red velvet hangings. Leaping to attention, I had thrown the covers back and jumped to the floor, all of my senses suddenly firing as my body tensed. I reached automatically for my sword but found it gone. My hunting knife, my fowling piece, every weapon and tool had been stripped from me. I realized then that I was still wearing all my clothes except for my boots and my jacket, which had been carefully placed by the foot of the bed, the latter folded neatly. _Who had done this? Who had brought me here?_

And then my gaze had fallen on a small bloodstain at the bottom of my sleeve, and it had all come flooding back: the woods, Velkan, Van Helsing, the Count. I had forgotten myself and revealed my secret, and now I was the Count's prisoner with a price on my head. I had lost it all—the brother I loved, the man I might someday have loved, and, perhaps, the entire war, my family, everything. Desperately, and perhaps foolishly, I ran to the door, but it was locked. I pulled and I pushed, but it would not budge. I felt myself beginning to panic. I ran to the window, but it too was barred to me, and, looking down, I saw that I was hundreds of feet above a stone courtyard. Even if I should succeed in opening it, there would be no escape. I scanned the room looking for something, anything I could use to pry the door open, but there was nothing. I felt the panic begin to subside, replaced by numbing despair.

I had failed. The thought that I now depended on the protection of my enemy sickened me. And it was all my fault. I sank to the floor and let out a long, jagged scream—out of frustration, grief, anger, terror…I don't know. I screamed until my ears rang and my throat burned, until I felt the bile collect in my stomach and my chest begin to constrict. My shoulders shook with sobs that I forced myself to swallow as horrifying images danced before my eyes: my father silently shaking his head, my mother hiding her face in her hands, my brother clutching at me as his life slipped away. Somewhere nearby the Count was laughing. I beat the wall until my fist was bloodied and numb and I clawed at the thick, Persian carpet beneath me. I kicked out violently, sending a chair hurtling into the opposite wall with a splintering crash. I screamed again, but this time it was more like a wail, drawn out and hoarse, and I collapsed, exhausted and out of breath. The minutes dragged as I lay panting on my stomach.

Finally, I lifted my head and cast a despondent glance at my surroundings. A low fire flickered in a marble fireplace, illuminating bits of gilt all over the room, and by its light I could make out the massive bed in which I had awoken, small, ornately carved tables with spindly legs and chairs upholstered in a rich brocade. There was an ebony dressing table with a mirror set in a gilded frame by a large window, a stately armoire, and paintings of nymphs, Diana and Acteon, Apollo and Daphne, Clytie, Adonis, Echo, and Psyche adorned the walls. Everywhere there was gold, but I could find no delight in that chamber, no warmth. It was a handsome room, but to me it was no more than a cage—a gilded cage for the Count's prize. I crawled to the window and sat, resting my chin on my knees, lulled by the mindless dance of the raindrops on the glass. Was it raining where Velkan lay? Had they even buried him, or had they left him there, strewn across the forest floor like a piece of rubbish? He wasn't wearing much. Was he cold? A lone tear slid down my cheek. I brushed it away, but another followed, and then another, mirroring the patterns on the windowpane. "I'm sorry, Velkan," I whispered, "I tried…I tried…"

I did not hear the click of the lock.

"And what is this?" a melodious voice called from the doorway. I jumped and whipped my head around. The door stood ajar and Aleera was leaning languidly against its frame with one slender arm draped around the edge. "My master did not tell me we were expecting guests tonight. Forgive me for not receiving you properly…you must think me a disgraceful hostess." Her words dripped with sarcasm and malevolence as she glared at me.

She was beautiful, I will admit. In any other place I might have thought her a fairy standing there, or an angel. She was a vision in pink, her luxuriant red hair—the color of the sunsets she would never see—cascading in soft waves over her milky shoulders, her dark eyes gleaming. Her pallid face was vivid across high cheekbones but still retained some of the roundness of youth. How old had she been, I wondered, when the Count had made her his? But I knew better. Despite her loveliness, her appearance of innocence, there was something dangerous in Aleera that the Count's other brides were without. They were all three bloody and ruthless, beautifully violent when they descended for the kill, but Aleera's viciousness had always surpassed her sisters'. Verona was dazzling and regal, Marishka nubile and coquettish. The queen had commanded respect, the girl, raw desire, but Aleera—the Count's huntress—struck cold fear into the hearts of all who saw her. And so it was with some apprehension that I beheld her standing there, her full, beautiful lips twisted in a cruel smile.

I turned away, hastily drying my eyes and straightening my shoulders. I would not let her see me cry. "Oh what are _you_ doing here?!" I choked. "Can't you people just leave me alone? Go! Leave me to my grief!" I gestured angrily towards the door without turning around.

"I might ask the same of you," she replied frostily, moving noiselessly over the threshold. "Why did he bring you here? Or, more to the point, why did he bring you here _with a pulse_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I snapped, "now leave me be."

"Leave you be? My master cannot seem to do so," she said softly, "so why should I?" There was something in her tone that made me suddenly uneasy having my back to her. Warily, I turned to face her. She drew closer, her hips swaying provocatively as she sauntered across the floor. Something was different in her appearance, something was new. She stood straighter than usual, her flawlessly-modeled chin jutted out more proudly, but there was something else…

She paused, inches away from me, and extended a slender, bejeweled hand to grasp my chin. I tried to jerk my head away, but her grip was too firm. Her eyes narrowed. Slowly she turned my face from side to side, tilting it towards the light, and frowned slightly. "You have grown prettier, but you are not beautiful," I barely heard her say; I was staring at the ring on her finger, a single large emerald flanked by two small diamonds. I had seen it before, but not on her. It was Verona's. When Aleera saw where my gaze had fallen, she smirked, twisting her hand to admire her new bauble. "All that was hers is mine now," she murmured smugly.

She released my face with a dismissive flick of her wrist and stepped back, looking me up and down. I almost caught myself straightening my posture under her scrutiny. She began to walk slowly around me, looking closely at every angle of my body, every curve. She was examining me like my father used to appraise horses at auction. "What does he want with you?" she breathed, "what could _you_ possibly offer him?" I looked at her, so buxom and beautiful, and silently agreed, remembering how I used to secretly envy her as a young girl. Her hips were full where mine were muscled and her ample bosom strained against her bodice. I suddenly felt very plain and gawky.

"You know that I want nothing from him, Aleera," I whispered, taking a step backwards.

Aleera followed and shook her head knowingly, her eyes glowing a dangerous purple, "don't play coy with me, princess, I know what lurks in your lusting heart."

I stared unblinking into her coldly beautiful face and was surprised to see what looked like a hint of pain cross her flawless features.

"I don't know what you're speaking of," I replied as evenly as I could. _Lusting heart? _ My heart was broken; if it could lust for anything it all, it was for vengeance. But "brother" is not a word that the dead understand, nor is "family," or "love." No, Aleera only understood "master." She thought only of the Count and wished for nothing but to be near him. I wished myself miles away.

"I said," the vampiress's voice rose with deadly menace as she advanced on me, "_don't play coy with me_. My master's scent is strong on you, but you haven't so much as a scratch, _why_? What did you do with him, you minx?!" she shrieked. She suddenly seized my throat in her white fingers with enough force to lift my heels from the ground. Her nails dug into my neck and she hissed hungrily as one of them broke the skin.

"You're choking me!" I rasped.

"Give me a reason not to," she spat at me, and shook me roughly, "I will ask you one more time, _what did you do with him?! _

"Aleera, I don't know what you're talking about," I tried again, my voice a jagged whisper as I gasped for air. My head was starting to pound and spots appeared before my eyes. She continued to throttle me, unmoved, her lovely face disfigured with rage. This was more than bloodlust. This was desperate. She came at me like a cornered animal, the way a she-wolf defends her den when her cubs are young. Her fangs were bared; her eyes flashed.

"My sisters may have contented themselves with less, but _I_ do not forget my master so easily. He is _mine_ now and I will _not_ be replaced once more, especially not by _you_!" she growled and suddenly released my neck, backhanding me and sending me flying across the room. "So I would strongly suggest, _your highness_, that you keep your hands and your…_heart_ to yourself!"

I got to my feet, rubbing my neck gingerly. "I hope you have a heart, Aleera," I wheezed, "because some day I'm going to drive a stake through it. And he will forget you just as he has forgotten all of his whores." She winced at that last word. "He will replace you without so much as a thought."

For a moment her face was sickening to look at. Then, slowly, she straightened and something of her icy beauty returned as she forced a knowing smile. "Yes, you'd like that wouldn't you, princess," she purred, "then you could have him all to yourself. _I_ am his lady now, do you understand me? And the only mistress of this house. If I were you I'd heed my warnings, Anna my love, next time I will not ask you so nicely." And with those words she turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving me to ponder her accusations.

Hours passed. I resumed my seat at the window and remained there motionless with my head in my hands. She was wrong, I thought angrily, I did not want this. Yes, I had wanted him that night in the woods and I had wanted him in the armory, and even on the cliff, but I did not want this. To be a prisoner. To be at the mercy of a demon that had long ago lost all capacity to feel or to pity. To lose. All I wanted was to go home; I wanted my family…but I had lost them forever. My undoing had been theirs as well. I shivered and hugged my knees more tightly. "I hate you," I heard myself say in a small voice. But whom was I addressing? Aleera? The Count? Van Helsing? Myself? I looked over at the vanity, expecting an answer, but the girl in the mirror was silent. I did not even recognize her. She stared back at me through swollen, bloodshot eyes. Her dark hair was disheveled and matted to her face, which was pale and streaked with tears. Her jaw quivered and her shoulders were hunched.

I had seen this girl before, once when I was young and had lost my way in the forest. It was late autumn and Velkan and I had been hunting for truffles with our father, one of my only happy memories from my childhood. We had become separated and I had wandered the woods alone for hours, calling franticly for them as the sun began to set. At last, exhausted, cold, and muddy, I had lain down next to a small pond and I saw her face in the water. She looked so frightened and had screamed for her papa to come and get her, crying out that she was afraid of the dark. The moon was high in the sky when my father found me sobbing in the rushes, and he had scolded me for being so weak and childish. I was too big for such tears, he'd said. Children who cried were taken away by Dracula because they were too feeble to fight for their families. They would never be soldiers.

I glared accusingly at the girl in the mirror. This was all her fault. "I hate you!" I hiccupped again. She looked imploringly back at me and began to cry softly. She didn't want to fight anymore, she just wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. I eyed her in disgust. My own cheeks felt hot and wet and I slapped them as hard as I could. "Stop it!" I screamed at her, but she just kept crying, her whole body convulsing with sobs. I struck her harder. "_Stop it!!_ Are you a baby?!" And again. "No wonder you couldn't save Velkan, _you are pathetic!_ Do you hear me? You make me _sick_, STOP IT!!!"

I fell back against the window utterly spent. I was still sore from my earlier storm of weeping; it took all the effort I could muster to wrap my arms around my shoulders and stop them from shaking. Gradually, the sounds of sniffling stopped. My head ached and I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, hoping to dull the pain. Would the sun not rise? Would no one come? That night in the forest, lost and alone by the water, I had tried to calm myself by reciting the psalms. _The Lord is my shepherd_, I had whispered, _I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me…_ But now they were but empty words; I could find no comfort in them. No, rather they mocked me: _Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies_. I had been weighed, measured and found wanting, and I would dwell in the house of the devil forever.

Even God would not help me here.

Rocking slowly back and forth, I began softly to sing. _By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down. We wept, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our lyres, for our captors there required of us songs, and our tormenters mirth, saying 'sing us one of the songs of Zion!' But how shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?_

My God, what had I done…

A sudden sound outside the door made me stiffen and fall silent. I heard brisk, deliberate footsteps draw near. They were too heavy to be Aleera's.

* * *

Gee, I wonder who it could be? (Hint: Full House's Bob Saget.) Has Anna finally gone off her rocker? Will Dracula be the next victim of my emo-riffic wrath? If you want me to tell you sooner rather than later, I suggest that you **hit the little button down on the left**. Come on, you know you want to. Make your stressed-out, exhausted authoress happy. Do it for the kittens. Do it for Dracula, no one wants to see _him_ having a dissociative episode and hitting himself. Just do it...please? **REVIEW! **

**REVIEW! REVIEW!**

FYI- The psalms that Anna recites at the end are nos. 23 and 137. I exercised some editorial/authorial license and spliced the King James and the Revised Standard versions in 137 to make it sound prettier (uh-oh! Call the Bible Police! Blasphemy! Haha.)

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******Pirates of the (Italian) Peninsula: At Wit's End**

Today's installment comes to you from Urbino, a gorgeous walled hill-top town in Le Marche (it's across the peninsula from Florence, on the Adriatic side). As I write this, the bells are ringing from all sides of the town (it's Sunday and time for the evening Mass)—boy, is it nice to be in the country at last. My hotel is _awesome_, more than twice as nice as my Milan hotel for half the price. Hello 4 stars. Last night I went to the movies—after all, it was Saturday night in Milan, I had to do _something_. So I went to see _Pirates of the Caribbean_. Big mistake. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time, but all the reviews said the film was confusing in English, and I was watching it dubbed into Italian with (obviously) no subtitles. I understood most of what was going on, but the fast-pirate-talk dialogue went right over my head.

Night two in Urbino now, I just treated myself to a nice dinner to celebrate finding some awesome documents in ye olde archives and taking a stealth photograph of a tabernacle. Your "no photo" signs mean _niente_ to me, mo-fos! Don't get your knickers in a twist though, it was all _senza flash_. Now my belly is full of truffles, olive oil, and chocolate cake. _And_, they brought me free grappa because I am a "bella signorina" who speaks nice Italian, huzzah!

And now it's my last night on this side of the pond. Today was the Feast of the Assumption (8/15), which is _huge_ in Italy—the entire country shuts down, basically. Since there was nothing else to do, I took my little Episcopalian self to Mass at the cathedral in Milan when I got back this afternoon. The Nicene Creed sounds so much cooler in Italian. Then there were fireworks over the castle at 11. No offense, Henry VIII, but the Church of England has nothing on the Catholics when it comes to celebrating feast days. I'm glad to be going home, but I'll certainly miss my adopted country. Luckily I'll be back here next year (for the long haul)! Anyway, thanks for putting up with my mini travel blog, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

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******Oh Wow Crazy Thank You List:**

******ForeverACharmedOne:** As always, you're amazing! Yeah, Draccie stepped up…but is he really protecting her or is he protecting his interests? Tricky… The ball will have to wait for a bit. There is lots of SexyBackDrac to cover before our leads can get jiggy with it.

******Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula:** Yes! Dracula to the rescue…of my story, haha. Indeed! I'm glad you liked it

******Shoysrock:** Why thank you, m'am! Things are gonna get cooking soon, I promise!

******Rezangel92:** Muahaha, I will keep you in suspense longer, yes? I'm so evil. ;) I hope you liked my first encounter of the Bridal kind.

******cheryljulia: **Wow, really, I'm very flattered! I hope I don't disappoint, thank you so much for those lovely compliments. Now I am the color of a beet.

******annadracula: **Soon, I promise…the ball will be here in, er…like 6 chapters…don't kill me!

******Clara:** Thanks! Yeah Milan _was_ awesome. I'm glad I can help you procrastinate. Procrastination is the greatest nation of them all!

******Lorien Urbani:** OH! I do love your reviews, they are so wonderful, thoughtful, and critical. You need to warn me before indulging my ego like that though, seriously, I'm getting more puffed up than Dracula (wait, is that possible?). Wow, I made you cry? Wow. I got pretty emotional when I wrote that chapter too…it was very draining. Loss is never easy to cope with, and I wanted Anna to _really_ feel the weight of Velkan's death. Her scene with Carl helped in that regard, I think, because it allowed her to start thinking about family and relationships, and then to have the only person she was ever close to die in her arms…that can't have been easy. I sympathize with Gabriel too, but he's kind of being a jerk. He's like the boy in middle school who pushes the girl he likes on the playground. Grow up, Gabe. Heh, yeah, the Count's allure…you know it! I feel your pain, that beyotch never takes me prisoner either, unless you count the time he turned off the TV and sent me to my room to do my work. It was so unfair! THANK YOU so, so much.

**Lily on the Pond:** A new reader! Thanks for the review! I'm really glad you like it.

******DarkestFullMoon:** Wow, --blushes—thank you. There will be no tactless giggling about boobies in this story (well, except for here, hahaha I said boobies!) Sorry. ;p

**TabbyKit: **You have spoiled me so! Thank you for each and every one of your lovely reviews, the feedback is much appreciated. Yeah A2! Hopefully this will tide you over until I can actually write more. And I'm with you, Van Poophead needs to step off Dracko's woman, yo.

******liverpoolfan: ** Dracula will be blessed and he will like it dammit, lol. Can't you just picture him in lederhosen? Too cute. Thank you so much for the praise/encouragement, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

******Elwyndra:** Gosh, electric and hypnotic? Wow…thanks! Color me flattered and astonished. I am really so blown away by what all of you have said about my silly writing, it means a ton, to me. I'm glad you liked _The Journey of the Magi,_ that chapter was hard…but I guess it was worth it! Don't feel _too_ bad for VH in this story, he's brought most of it on himself. He wouldn't have to struggle alone if he stopped killing everyone and being a prick about it…

******Jordan Kintz:** Yeah, Velkan is nice to look at…but you can't entirely deny the appeal of Van Doofus either. Oh, hell, they're all hot. Well, except for Frankenstein and Igor. Thanks for the review!

******Morgrimmon:** Thanks for the detailed review, and no worries on the hot/cold business, I really appreciate candid feedback. Yeah, Anna is very much between a rock and a hard place, she blames both Van Helsing and Dracula for Velkan's death, but is so short-sighted that she blames VH more. And now that he knows her secret, she will indeed be dependent on Dracula's protection. Let's just see how that goes, shall we? Well, as Sir Slutty-Pants himself remarked a few chapters ago, necessity breeds strange bedfellows. Yowza.

******TheStoryGypsy:** This is uncanny, I'm talking to you AND I'm writing you a note—the world has gone mad! Anyhoo, my inbox totally adores you: you're amazing and I love, love your reviews. I'm so flattered you like my Draccie so much, if only _he'd_ respect my authoritah, then I'd be golden! Now tell me more about this Scarborough Faire of yours…

**VintageLyre:** I think I've been blushing throughout most of these author's notes...I'm really glad and flattered that you like it so far! Restoring some sense of humanity and depth to Anna was one of my main hopes/goals in writing this, and I'm thrilled that I seem to have been somewhat effective there. Anna presents a very hard exterior by bottling up all of her emotions (in the film). Of course, bottles can only hold so much before they explode... And yeah, I hate the ending of the movie too, I never watch it! Dracula IS so much better than Van Bozo. Puh-lease, it's no contest. But does "better and hotter" equal "victorious?" Only time will tell... ;p


	11. Prayer to Persephone

**What up homies?**** Oh my God, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages!** I'm in the middle of writing grant proposals, grading papers, and finally finishing up work on the house, among other crazy things. I wish I could write all day every day, but Life demands otherwise. Stupid Life! And then, of course, lucky me caught an acute case of Writer's Block. I literally spent a month working on this chapter. But now it's done! Huzzah!

Dedications seem to be in the air lately, so _I_ would like to dedicate this chapter to** TheStoryGypsy** because she is fabulous. Hell, I've been up all night most of the last few weeks shooting the shit with her over IM—she is super cool! Plus she held my hand during the dreaded Writer's Block. If my dear readers are not reading **"Before Eternity,"** then they need to have their heads examined, because it **rocks**. Darling, my chapter is a poor gift in comparison to your glorious updates, but I hope it can suffice. I, too, would gift you with Vladdykins, but we all know he doesn't listen to me. What does that lovely Christmas hymn "In the Bleak Midwinter" tell us? "What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part. Yet, what I can I give Him: give my heart." So yeah, I give my chapter.

Now, finally, those of you who get cranky with narrative changes may want to read no further. Why, you ask? Because half of this chapter is in the third person. I know, I know, it disrupts flow and continuity, but it had to be done. There is information about Dracula in this chapter that could not be conveyed otherwise, so please keep your pants on (unless it is Pantsless Friday, of course), I promise this is _not_ going to be a regular occurrence. To make things less painful, I've split the chapter into** two** **parts**, both of which are clearly marked.

This chapter was one of my favorites to write so far, but also one of the hardest. I can say, however, that I'd been looking forward to writing this one since chapter 3. I hope you like it! **Remember that part 1 takes place at the same time as the last chapter, so that part 2 picks up where the last chapter left off.**

**Disclaimer:** Comme d'habitude, I own nothing! Somewhere in this chapter a little bit of _The Last Unicorn_ is hiding (best animated movie ever), bonus points if you can find it.**  
**

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**Chapter 10: Prayer to Persephone**

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Part One: 

_Dust to dust  
Ashes in your hair remind me  
What it feels like  
And I won't feel again…  
Night descends  
Could I have been a better person  
If I could only  
Do it all again_

-Trent Reznor

--------------------

Count Dracula walked briskly through the darkened halls of Vilkova Palace. The servants had long ago gone to bed; the house was silent. His footsteps rapped sharply on dark wooden floors, hammering in syncopation to the steady beat echoing faintly from the top floor of the east wing. His princess—his prize—awaited.

He paused momentarily in front of a large mirror. How fitting, he had often thought, that the glass that would never again reveal his likeness was crafted in the shape of the sun. He smirked darkly, chuckling to himself. "Well, Vladislaus," he addressed his absent reflection, "you've certainly outdone yourself this time…bravo, old man, _bravo_."

The sound of her broken heart was like honey to his ears. She was his now. Gabriel would never touch her again. And as for her traitorous family…well, they would never see those pearly gates that they claimed were their birthright. They would rather look on helplessly from Purgatory as he had his way with the last of their bloodline, as he bedded her, bled her, and made her his forever. Her cries of passion would drown out their prayers for mercy.

Oh,_ bravo indeed_.

Another sound reached his ears, a soft whimpering. It sounded like a wounded animal and he wrinkled his nose disdainfully at Aleera's cries of neglect, striding past her closed door without so much as a sideways glance. He had barely put a foot out of his coffin that evening before she had draped herself over his arm, eager to console him for the loss of yet another of her sisters. She had pressed herself up against him, stroking, mouthing, and grinding as if to compensate for the absence of his lost bedmates and show him that her body could satisfy the lusts that had previously demanded the attentions of all three.

Normally he would have relished her attentions and thrown her without hesitation onto his bed, allowing her to indulge in those acts of unspeakable perversion and decadence that only she could perform. But he had other things on his mind tonight, other tasks to complete. And next to Anna's repressed abandon, he found Aleera's gluttony distasteful. To break what was already laid open to him…where was the fun in that?

So he had brushed her aside. He did not even spare her a kiss or a tender word. Oh, the jealous little minx, how she had raged when she discerned the princess's heartbeat! She had remembered his promise to replace Marishka all too well, and, when he roared at her that the princess was not for eating, she fled to her room and slammed the door, howling that she would leave him if he found her bed so repugnant. He would like to see her try; his sides shook with silent laughter as he imagined it.

And then Verona's bedchamber, the door standing open to reveal the empty space within, the bed that she would never sleep in, the trinkets on the vanity that she would never touch, the empty grate full of ash…she was never coming back.

_Verona_. The Count felt a sudden, sharp pang at the sight of those ashes, like the one he had felt two nights before when her silent screams had torn across his mind and he'd turned back, only to see her body fall back into the flames of the wrecked carriage at the bottom of the ravine, pierced over a dozen times by Van Helsing's silver stakes, while Aleera looked on with feigned distress… Did she resemble those embers now? He could have sworn he saw her standing there out of the corner of his eye, a lithe, somber, elegant figure, waiting quietly for him just like she always used to do. Such acceptance and trust he found in those enormous dark eyes. Unlike her younger sisters, she had never demanded of him what she knew he could not give, although he knew she secretly yearned for it. She had always been the most devoted, the most loyal…and if he could have given his wasted heart to any of his brides, he would have given it to her. That one had understood him like the others never could.

He forced himself to keep walking.

Slowly, the smile crept back across his face. His plan was working perfectly. His princess lay defeated up in the tower, weeping her heart out for her murdered brother. But soon…soon her grief would turn to thoughts of revenge. And whom would she blame for Velkan's untimely demise? Surely not _him_; no, _he_ would have been the prince's preserver. _He_ had given her his word…

Dracula chuckled softly.

_His word…_

They were locked together in hatred, the princess and he, both wronged by the Vatican's avenger. Why sully his own hands with the prince's death when he could let dear Gabriel do it for him?

Yes, Gabriel had performed the role of executioner exceedingly well, but then he always had. The Count shook his head disdainfully. "Oh, Gabriel, Gabriel," he mused aloud, "always such arrogance…" And such efficiency. In one fell swoop, Van Helsing had rid him of one wretched Valerious and delivered the other right into his arms. And she needed him now, this last Valerious; she was at his mercy without a friend in the world. How easy it had been to convince her to betray family, God, and country, all for love of a brother who had been doomed from the start.

Oh, the fools, they had unwittingly played right into his hands! The bargain was dissolved, but what of it? It had never truly existed in the first place. No, it was so much more than that. For Dracula was nothing if not cunning, cold, calculating, and cruel. A fine figure he had cut when he came to her that night, promising everything but intending nothing. He had cornered her like a lion separates a young antelope from the herd, forcing her hand, bending her will to his own. And now she was hunted—as he was—by her would-be lover, the one person who could have helped her. And she, in turn, would hunt him. She had been ready to hand Gabriel over to him for love. Now she would do it for revenge.

A dark smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he ascended the stairs with the light steps of a much younger man. True, the Count still felt sorely for the loss of his brides. He would make Gabriel pay dearly for that little ruse with the carriages, and Anna would help him all too willingly. But not now; now she was frightened and grieving, and he would comfort her…

His hand closed on the door handle.

He froze. He had expected tears, rage, even defiance, but he had not expected this. Anna sat dazed by the window, staring blankly ahead as she rocked herself gently back and forth. Her cheeks were bruised, her fists, bloodied, and he realized, to his horror, that she had done this to herself. He felt suddenly sick at the sight of her. For all the times that she had suffered defeat, she always had remained resilient, steadfast, and proud. Even at her brother's funeral, when she had believed herself utterly alone in the world, she had held her head high. And now… The Count had watched her all her life; he had seen her angry, he had watched her mourn, he had even occasionally glimpsed her fear. But nothing had prepared him for the broken creature on the window-seat. She was lost. Tears traced wet paths down her sullied cheeks and fell unnoticed to her lap. The fire in her eyes had gone out, replaced by vacant despair. She looked…hollow.

Every honeyed reassurance he had planned to offer her abruptly fled from his mind as a wave of guilt, foreign and strange, washed over him. Dracula had known something of loss. Yes, by God, he knew about that. Looking at her sitting there, lost and alone, he felt a sudden, irrational urge not to dissemble, goad, or seduce, but to console, and he found himself frustrated by the lack of gentleness in his life. He did not know how to approach a heartsick maid and express his regret. He was accustomed to the bouts of hysteria his brides were often prone to, but never before had such outbursts disturbed him. The Count knew full well how to hush a woman's tears and murmur soft, meaningless words in her ears, how to turn her sobs of despair into gasps of ecstasy. But he did not know how to mean it.

As if guided by some hidden instinct, he strode lightly over to the window and took her in his arms, hushing her sobs against his hollow chest. He brushed the matted hair back from her face and raised her battered knuckles to his lips, kissing away every last cut and bruise until they were once again slim and white. He caressed her cheeks with cool fingers until they were no longer marred by her desperate handprints. And, gradually, her shoulders stopped shaking and her whimpers ceased. She collapsed against him, exhausted and defeated.

But as her weeping ebbed, so, too, did his guilt, until all traces of compassion were wiped from his mind and his heart grew cold and still once more. The knots in his stomach loosened, the crease in his brow retreated back into the poreless alabaster, and still Anna clung to him.

_Yes_, he thought smugly, tightening his arms around her and smirking into her hair, _you are mine now. _

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Part Two:

_Be to her, Persephone,  
All the things I might not be:  
Take her head upon your knee.  
She that was so proud and wild,  
Flippant, arrogant and free,  
She that had no need of me,  
Is a little lonely child  
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,  
Take her head upon your knee:  
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,  
It is not so dreadful here."_

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Footsteps. I abruptly ceased my lament and listened, hardly daring to breathe. They came closer and closer until, finally, they stopped and a shadow fell under the door. I gripped the window seat so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

The door opened and there stood the Count, in all of his somber elegance, looking more at ease than I had ever seen him. His shoulders were straight, his chin high, and a saccharine smile hovered on his lips—a victor's stance. He had come to gloat, I thought miserably. His powerful frame commanded the entire space of the doorway. He looked like he belonged in this room; I must have looked a mess. Until that moment I never wanted to let him see me cry, but now I didn't care. Seeing him there only reminded me of what I had almost won, and what I had lost forever. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks and I made no move to stop them.

His smirk abruptly vanished. The face that had been triumphant, purposeful, and seductive now looked ill, disgusted, and oddly uneasy. Without a word he crossed the space between us and enfolded me in his arms like a small child. And, as I had that far-away morning on the cliff, I found myself craving his comfort. My strength failed me and I leaned gratefully against him, accepting the solace that was offered to me regardless of its source. I let him kiss the hands that I had bloodied and the cheeks that I had struck until the pain went away.

"Please…just leave me alone," I whispered half-heartedly between waning sobs. But he would not release me.

"Hush now…" he breathed into my hair, "why do you cry, my love?"

"He killed him…_he killed him_," I hiccupped, as though I still could not believe the awful truth.

His left arm tightened around my waist as he wrapped his right around my neck and shoulder, pulling me into his chest and tucking me under his chin. His hand softly cupped my brow and I leaned into his touch, letting his cool fingers soothe my aching head as he rocked me gently. "Of course he did…Oh, my darling girl, I told you he was not to be trusted…I told you he was false…" he cooed. "Shall I kill him for you?" he added darkly.

"No..." I replied blankly, "I will do it." My voice sounded far away, as if it weren't my own, as if the world were slowly disappearing.

"Good girl," he purred, kissing my neck just below my ear. Lazy fingers trailed up and down my spine and I shuddered in delight.

The girl in the mirror was pleased. A protector had come, and he did not wish her to be upset. No, the Count was honorable. The Count had kept his word. The Count had tried to help her but Van Helsing had spoiled it. Van Helsing was the villain. And now he would pay.

The Count wished to soothe her, and she would let him.

"Your heart no longer races in my presence, princess. Could it be that you are…warming to me?" he whispered.

_I would not forget_.

"It is broken," I said dismissively, turning away to look again at my ghostly reflection in the glass, and at the void where his own should have been. Somehow its absence made him all the more palpable; I felt every inch of the steely bands that tightened around me, every point of contact. I felt each strand of hair that grazed my shoulder as he shook his head slowly, each icy fingertip, although I saw nothing.

Drawing closer, he dropped his head to rest his ear on my back, just behind the shattered organ that was slowly sounding out Velkan's death knell. I felt him close his eyes as he pressed close to me, burying his face between my shoulder blades.

"No…it beats, lovely. It is still intact." He sighed as if that ungodly dirge were the sweetest music he had ever heard. "It is like a lullaby…"

A covetous hand slipped over my thigh and I shuddered again in spite of myself.

"You're shivering," he murmured, the husk returning to his voice, "come away from the window and let me warm you."

He took a step back towards the bed and reached to pull me with him but I resisted, wresting my arm from his grasp, and would not budge. I was his prisoner; I would not be his whore. I heard him hiss sharply and I felt him stiffen. He drew back, so that the space between our bodies weighed heavily on me. But his voice remained soft, silky, and seductive, as he whispered close to my ear. "Or will this little bird fly from me, now that I have snared her at last? This need not be a cage, pet, if you do not wish it to be."

As he spoke, his hands crept back around my arms in a cold, controlling caress; he held them down, against my sides, as if to bind me fast with his sinewy fingers, and he began to place soft, insistent kisses on my neck. "Come to my nest, sweet bird," he purred into my skin, "and I will be gentle with you."

This time he succeeded in pulling me from my perch by the window and I stumbled weakly against him. Immediately his arms surrounded me and he pressed cold, satiny lips to my face. It was so tempting, in that moment, to close my eyes and melt into his embrace, to allow this dark creature to hold me and to listen to his words of comfort. I was so tired…

"Now hush," he cooed. But the gentleness was gone; this was no soothing entreaty, it was a command. And it frightened me. He closed his fingers around my hair, thoughtfully caressing it with his thumb, before moving it aside and tucking it over my left shoulder, baring my neck more fully for his greedy mouth, which licked and nipped at my skin until it burned. His touch grew rough. He ran his hands down my arms to grip my elbows possessively and trailed one of them boldly across my stomach to my hipbone where it kneaded and stroked in small circles, threatening to creep between my thighs. I squirmed, but he held me fast. He closed his icy lips on my ear and I gasped. "Yes, Anna, that's right…" he growled softly, "let me have you…"

I could not resist; it was pointless. I was alone with no weapons and nowhere to run. So I shut my eyes and stood very still, like my father had once taught me to do if I were confronted by a wolf or some other animal, hoping vainly that if I played dead, he would stop. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine myself far away where there was no pain.

"Please…" I breathed, fat tears squeezing through clenched eyelids, "just let me go."

He abruptly stopped his ministrations; his mouth was torn from my aching flesh, his spidery fingers released my trembling arms. The air around me seemed suddenly colder and darker now that Dracula no longer occupied it. I opened my eyes and saw him leering down at me scornfully. He brought his hands—those hands that I both desired and despised—together in front of his chest, as if in prayer to some false god.

"And where are you going to run, my dear?" he drawled. "Your people think you a traitor and your lover wishes you dead. No, princess, you will stay here and I will keep you safe."

I felt a sudden twinge at the mention of Van Helsing. Did he truly desire my head? Was his heart so hardened, so devoid of compassion and pity? Did he feel nothing?

My stomach lurched. _No, murderers do not have hearts._

"He is not my lover," I spat bitterly. The Count arched a brow.

"Oh, isn't he?" he said smoothly, his beautiful mouth twisting around each syllable. "Well, he'll not harm you. You belong to me…" And, before I could move away, he pulled me roughly towards him, smashing me against his stony frame in a velvet embrace, his arms surrounding me like fetters. He twined his fingers in my hair and looked down at me wolfishly. "The battle was fairly won," he purred, pressing his open mouth to my jaw, "and I am loath to part with my prize."

"Ah yes, your_ prize,_" the words broke in my throat. "And what will you do with me now that you have me, Count? The last Valerious must be no small quarry to your kind. Will you beat me? Cage me? Place a chain around my neck and parade me in triumph before all who would come to gawk at the once proud princess? 'Anna Valerious, now no more than the devil's whore!' I'll make you a fine trophy, demon."

My voice cracked and I pushed him roughly, but his grip did not loosen. He just sighed irritably and gazed down at me with an odd mixture of disdain and amusement.

"Oh come now," he scolded me, "is that any way to speak to the one who offers you shelter?"

"How would you have me address my jailer?" I snapped, but there was fear in my voice.

"Your jailer?" he echoed in mild surprise. A strange look fell over his arrogant features. "Do not judge me so harshly, little one. You are no prisoner."

"Aren't I?" I challenged. He seized my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my head up to face him. I would not look into those blue eyes.

"I have been a prisoner, highness," he said softly. His voice was oddly strained. "I have known cages and chains. Such a fate is not for you." He paused and released my chin. "You are my hostage, nothing more."

He reached out again to touch my face.

"Don't!" I jerked away.

And to my surprise, he relented. The Count stepped back, his hands open and raised in surrender. "I will not touch you," he whispered.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it, as if reconsidering. Turning away somewhat, he ran a long finger thoughtfully over the back of a gilded chair. "You may come and go as you please," he said more loudly as he turned back to face me. "My secrets guard themselves…and yours do the same."

He bowed gently and swiftly exited the room, closing—but not locking—the door behind him. I immediately collapsed on the floor in a heap, feeling strangely desolate. I mourned my brother, and my own sad predicament, but there was something else… I could not muster the strength to crawl back into that large bed until the first rosy streaks of dawn filtered through the window. But when I did, I fell wearily into the pillows and retreated at once into that world of dreams where I was never alone.

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**Well…there you have it. I don't envy Anna one jot. Well…maybe I do; Wacko Dracko is pretty hot, even if he's kind of a jerk. **

**It would mean a TON to me if y'all reviewed—school is kicking my ass right now and I'm really suffering for a little encouragement in **_**some**_** area of my life/work. Make my life less crappy! REVIEW! **

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**REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ****REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! **

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**A/N:** The chapter is named, in case you didn't guess, after the Edna St. Vincent Millay poem. Gosh, that's pretty… The lines at the very beginning are the second verse of "In This Twilight," from Nine Inch Nails' latest album _Year Zero_. It is one of the most beautiful things I've heard in a long time, go check it out. The verse at the beginning of the last chapter was "All Cats Are Grey" by The Cure. That record, _Faith_ (1981), is very bleak and wonderful. All Dracula fans should be aware of them, their early work was crucial to Goth and it rocks. I recommend (in addition to _Faith_)_Pornography_ and _Disintegration_.

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**People Who Are Awesome:**

**Shoysrock:** Oh yes, Dracula is definitely coming…wait, that sounds dirty, gross. As always, you make me smile. I'm so glad you likey.

**VintageLyre:** I'm so glad you're continuing to read/review! Yeah, Anna's pretty much hit rock bottom, and it's pretty sad to see. As for Van Poo Head…yeah, he's turned on her. I guess that's what happens when you're a spineless mercenary with no soul! Haha, I'm so mean to him ;p.

**ForeverACharmedOne:** Oh, Miss Forever, what would I do without you? Probably shrivel up and die in a world devoid of comedy. Seriously, where can we get some of that room service? I hear you on the repetition thing…I tried to integrate it into the whole but it doesn't always fit as well as you'd like. That part of the Aleera scene, incidentally, was something I wrote way back when I started this story, so maybe that's why it sounds weird/lame. ;p Well, Anna got her hug…as for the "other things," I guess she'll just have to wait. Bwahahaha…

**Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula:** Well, you decide: fluff or rage? _I_ couldn't decide, so I gave you both lol.

**Rezangel92:** Thanks! I'm bringing more Reznoriffic chapter titles your way soon…

**Clara:** I can't imagine what you've been through, but I'm very touched that you felt comfortable sharing such a painful, private experience. Judging from my own experiences with trauma, I absolutely agree with you about the counseling thing…and I hope you're getting the support you need. Anna…well, she'll get some counsel somewhere… She's been through a hell of a lot, but I'm hoping that, now that she's hit rock bottom, she has nowhere to go but up. It will take time, though. She and Dracula are both very, very damaged people. Thank you so much for reviewing, I am sending you hugs.

**Elwyndra:** Uh-oh, swearing! Go wash your mouth out with soap! (Kidding. I swear like a sailor.) Thank you thank you, you are too kind and awesome. As for VH rescuing Anna…well…I'll just say that he's not too happy with her right now, and he's not the most forgiving guy around. And you're right, he'll never get a job as Official Princess Comforter. Luckily, we have SexyBackDrac for that…

**Liveforthedream:** Thanks, man! Your story is freaking amazing, so I'm really flattered. You rock!

**DarkestFullMoon:** I updated? Well, you reviewed! I officially love _you_! Really, I'm super touched and flattered by your very kind words. You rock my world. I need to read some Twilight so that I can read (and review) your stuff. Anyway, just for you: this chapter is about what would happen if Anna and Dracula 'did it' lol! I'm sooper bad at review replies, just reed above!11!11 Or not…hehe.

**annadracula: **Did I kill you with the wait? I hope not… Thanks as always!

**cheryljulia:** Thank you much! Yeah, you thought you knew who was behind the door… I want to know how many people actually believed that it was Bob Saget, ha!

**The Vladislaus Dracula:** Hey, don't worry about not reviewing! I mean, we all love reviews, but family comes first... I hope things are going better for you now, and thanks for writing. :)

**Elenna Starlight:** A new reader/reviewer! Yay! Thanks for the compliments! Your English is much better than my French/Italian, so I wouldn't dream of trying to correct it. Switzerland sounds really cool...I've been to the Zurich airport to change planes, but that's it. Thanks again!

**Lorien Urbani:** Howdie-ho yourself, chica! I'm so proud of you for kicking ass on your exams! And then you wrote that amazing chapter…how do you do it?? You're _brilliant_, that's how. You are truly amazing. Of course you, of all people, would pick up on the room/Dracula parallel. I've been thinking a lot about the part in Pride and Prejudice when Lizzie starts to fall in love with Darcy when she sees his estate at Pemberly because she thinks that the man who owns a house/land like that must have some good in him. Anyway, I love your reviews…seriously, I get excited waiting for them every time I update. Yay!

**Lady Linnet:** Another new reader, this made my day! You typically don't go for the Van Bozo bashing? Well I'm flattered that I seem to have won you over this time… I mean yeah, you've got to admit, he's asking for it here. And as for Vladdykins, well…we'll see. ;) Oh yay, I'm glad you liked the death scene…that's one of my favorites so far…if I'm allowed to have favorites. I'm really so glad that you're reading and enjoying, thanks!


	12. To Die, To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

**Holy crap, dudes, I vanished! ** Did you miss me? Did you forget about me? (Lord, I hope not...) I'm so sorry that this update took as long as it did, but I am so excited to bring you this new chapter!

This is kind of a weird chapter, but one that's very close to my heart. As you can probably guess from the title, this chapter is structured around the idea of dreams and that kind of liminal zone between sleeping and waking that dreams occupy. It's a transitional chapter, one in which we see Anna--who really hit rock bottom last time--start to try and put the pieces back together. It's really based around the sort of rootless limbo that change can cause, and it deals a lot with dreams and memories to get at that heartsick, wistful detachment. The title comes from _Hamlet_ (the ubiquitous 'to be or not to be' speech) and I was really struck, in passing, by Anna's similarity to Ophelia here, a character who retreats into her own childhood as she goes mad with grief. She's alone with herself for the very first time, and everything she's ever known is upside down--her friends are enemies, her enemies are friends--and it's almost impossible for her to tell what's real and what's fantasy. So just as Ophelia clings to nonsense rhymes as a way to manage her sense of loss, Anna retreats into memory and hides in the comfort of things that _were_ rather than things that _are_. But, as our good friend Carl reminded us several chapters ago, the darkest hour is often just before dawn. So maybe she'll snap out of it.

Lest you think that I was sitting idle on my little nerdy booty for the past four months, I didn't take a total sabbatical from fiction! I spent a few months working really hard on a **oneshot** (Drac X OC) called **_"As I Lay Me Down To Sleep"_** that I think is probably my strongest work to date, so if you're hankering for something else to read, please do check it out! It's my baby...

Without further ado, I give you: my update!

**Disclaimer:** Do I still need to write these? As always, I own zilch. Credit goes to the great Will S. for the line from Macbeth.

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**Ch. 11 To Die, To Sleep, Perchance To Dream…**

_She dreams him as a boy, he loves her as a girl._

-Robert Smith

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I slept fitfully. I was back in the forest on that night so long ago, when, frightened and alone, I had let my weakness show and cried pathetically for my father and brother. No longer the grown woman that I had so often boasted I would be, a warrior to go on adventures and slay great beasts, I was no more than a child once again. A small, frightened child cowering in the underbrush by a stagnant pond, wishing desperately that someone would come.

At last I heard footsteps, slow and shuffling. I lifted my tear-streaked face hopefully to greet my father but recoiled instantly, horrified, when I saw what it was that approached.

It was a man, but not a man. It had once been a man. Blackened flesh was hanging in tattered threads from his bones, which gleamed white in the moonlight. His teeth were decayed, his eyes yellow, and he smelled of death. He raised a rotting finger as he stepped towards me and I fell back in terror.

"You will go no further," he snarled. His voice was gravelly and hoarse, and seemed to come not from him but through him. The sound surrounded me from all sides, pouring in, making me gasp for air. I felt like I was drowning. "You have entered place of the dead, and the way out is shut."

I whirled to run the other way, but he appeared before me and blocked my path. The fear took hold. "This place belongs to the dead, and now the dead will keep you," he said more loudly, baring his blackened teeth, "the way is _shut!"_

Quaking, I whispered one last desperate prayer to the stony saints on the portals of the village church, those heavenly intercessors that the priest in tattered vestments had always said would protect me. But they did not come. They were only statues, I suddenly realized, only statues sitting vacantly in their niches. They could not hear the prayers of children.

The specter before me laughed as hundreds of clammy, wraith-like hands reached for me from all directions. I stood rooted to the spot as, more upon more, they passed through me. And he, too, moved closer until his breath was hot and rancid on my face…

"_You belong to the dead._"

I awoke screaming.

Someone was stroking my forehead. In the mottled light of dusk I could make out his familiar form perched on my bed, just as it had always been when I was frightened in the night. The brow that I had just kissed farewell forever was creased in concern. And, instantly, the fear subsided; Velkan was here with me and I was safe.

He shook his head and smiled sadly. "Where is my proud Anca?" he whispered. I clutched childishly at his hand and marveled at this beautiful illusion. If this was the Count's magic then there must yet be some good in him, I thought wildly, if he could bring my brother back to me when I needed him most.

Velkan sighed and squeezed my fingers lightly. His hand felt so warm, so real. "Where is my stubborn little donkey of a sister who could handle it all by herself?" he continued to chide me. I almost smiled.

"I can't," I protested weakly, "Velkan, I can't do this by myself, I—" I suddenly had to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. All of the things I wanted to say to him weighed heavily in my stomach and I swallowed hard. But they tumbled out anyway. "Why did you leave me?"

"Anca," he began. Shameful tears gathered in my eyes. "Anca, you must do this on your own."

"I can't!" I cried obstinately. He sighed again, heavily, and brushed my tangled hair out of my face.

"You can," he insisted. I saw myself at eight years old, dusty and tearful with a cut lip after falling from Ursu, my brown pony with the white feet. Velkan had pulled me to my feet and coaxed me back into the saddle, despite my protests, and promised me there was nothing to be afraid of. His eyes darkened with sorrow, "I wish I could do it for you, _meu şoricel_," he said softly, "but this is your task now, and you must finish it."

"But—" I realized with dread that he was about to leave me and I tightened my grip on his hand.

"You must do this on your own," he said again, gently prying his fingers from mine, "but I will be with you always."

"But I don't know what to do," I whispered.

I marveled that his face should remain so calm and peaceful. "Do what you must," he replied evenly, "and do what is right."

"How?" My words threatened to become sobs. "He has me, Velkan, he has me locked away like some kind of animal! It's done! I've failed! Even if I should escape, what then? That filthy murderer Van Helsing will kill me on sight…" I was becoming hysterical again and Velkan gathered me patiently in his arms. He held me firmly until I quieted once more. "I hate him," I said finally. "Both of them."

"Oh, Anca," he murmured. There was something in his eyes like disappointment. "Anca, do not be so quick to judge. You do not know how a man's demons can torment him, how they can…change him." I opened my mouth to speak but he laid a calloused finger over it and shook his head. "Sleep now," he whispered, "in the morning, everything will be different."

And it was. I could not shake my lingering apprehension, but my despair had lessened somewhat and I felt an odd sense of absolution. I looked over to the frightened girl in the mirror and made my peace. By the clear light of day, things no longer seemed quite so hopeless. Velkan's words still echoed in my mind. "Do what you must, and do what is right." In the midday sun, I thought I saw a depression in the bedclothes beside me where he had been sitting. Moving carefully out of the covers, I curled up in its center and breathed deeply. I closed my eyes and he was still there.

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It had been several days since his bewildering departure from my room, and I had seen nothing of the Count. When I awoke that first afternoon there was a tray sitting invitingly on the little gilded table by the fireplace. Against my better judgment, I lifted the covers of the dishes with shaking fingers and examined their contents. I found fresh plums, roasted pork with apples, stewed vegetables, warm bread, caşcaval cheese, and a bottle of burgundy. Although my mouth was watering torturously, I hastily replaced the lids. I had no stomach for his food.

A quick inspection of the door proved that it was indeed unlocked, but I did not venture over the threshold that day. Or the next. I lay in bed until I could stand it no longer. The tray was there once again when I arose and, once again, I snubbed it. I spent long hours counting the stones in the courtyard pavement below. When I had determined that there were, indeed, precisely six hundred and thirty-four, I moved to the end table in the corner where I found an odd assortment of books—a fragile volume of Petrarch's sonnets, a more recent but well-worn copy of Diderot's _Jacques le fataliste_, Tacitus's subversive _Annales_, _Robinson Crusoe_ (a tale of a marooned man, oh, cruel irony!) and, hiding behind the others, a thin collection of Charles Perrault's fairy tales, the very ones I had once memorized while stowed away under my father's desk in winter. Its leather cover was cracked in places and lined with faded marbled paper; when opened, it revealed pages that were tattered and creased. This was no sterile library showpiece; this book had been read by someone again and again. This book had been loved. It seemed odd to me that _Cendrillon_ or little _Chaperon rouge_ could have so captured the heart of a vampire. What child of the night had owned this?

As the sun set, I settled cross-legged like a Turk on the window-seat with Francis Frith's oversized album of _Egypt and Palestine_. We had heard of the marvels of the new technology of photography in Vaseria. I had even had my portrait taken—I had to sit so still!—but I had not the slightest notion that that cold and clunky apparatus could capture the lands of the Bible and make them real. Each picture told a story and, unearthing for myself these impossible places, I felt the exhilaration of an explorer. I gaped at the pyramids and stony Sphinx, the Mosque of Aksa in the holy city, and the Mount of Olives where Christ once prayed. Night crept in as I leaved through page after page of hot climes and sun-soaked ruins until, towards the end of the volume, one caused my breath to catch in my throat. Transfixed, I stared down at the image in my hands. By the warm light of the gas lamp, I saw the sea for the very first time.

On the third day, I set out to discover what lay on the other side of the door.

The handle turned easily and I walked out into a short, wood-paneled corridor. He had certainly hidden me away well enough, squirreled away at the top of a tower with not a soul in sight. Mine was the only door in the wall. I made my way cautiously down the winding stairs, jumping occasionally when they creaked beneath my feet. But I was safe and alone; I laughed at my own foolishness. Rays of slanting, afternoon sunlight were streaming through the windows and the only movements beside my own were those of the occasional bits of dust that danced in my wake, twinkling in the light. When I was a child, I had believed them to be fairies. And how Velkan had teased me for it… At that moment, I would have given anything to have him tease me once more.

I forced myself to continue downwards.

I had lived all my life as the daughter of a king, accustomed to everything of the highest comfort, but I felt awkward here amidst such splendor and scale. The steps and banisters were made of oak inlaid with mahogany; the windows on the staircase were high and latticed. Both it and the long gallery on which I eventually alighted seemed as if they belonged to a church rather than a house. The walls were punctuated by dozens of doors and magnificent portraits hung one atop the other from end to end.

Here and there, between fine ladies with powdered hair and grim-faced men in frock coats and gloves, I spotted a familiar face—a distant cousin, a great uncle or aunt. Their presence there puzzled me; I did not understand why Dracula would keep such paintings, why our family should hold such fascination for him. But my father had been much the same. He used to sit motionless for hours staring at the painted map of Transylvania in the library, muttering to himself. Once, when he was gone on one of his many expeditions searching for the Count's icy fortress, I snuck into his study. I had wanted only to sit in his chair, wrap myself in his afghan, and smell his pipe smoke, but curiosity overtook me. I was an eleven-year old child who missed her father and I opened cabinets and rifled through drawers, trying to find pieces of him that I could cling to in his absence. At the bottom of his lowest desk drawer, buried under books and papers, I found a small, strange box. Its hinges were rusted, its wood marred and chipped, it was very, very old. Crude letters carved hastily across its top spelled out _Drakulya_. I knew I should not open it, but opening it was all I could think of. And I found I could not help myself. Inside I found strange things—letters in a language I did not know, a woman's wedding band, a piece of parchment with the words '_factum est'—'_it is done' written in old characters. The two remaining items in the box have haunted my dreams to this day: a tiny blanket stained and spattered with brown and the skeletal remains of a human finger. Suppressing a scream, I had flung the box and its macabre contents back into the drawer and run back down to my room as fast as my feet could carry me.

I never spoke of that afternoon to anyone.

At the gallery's end lay the top of another, grander staircase made of ornately carved marble. The steps were wide and smooth, meant, I was sure, to carry bejeweled ladies wrapped in bright silks down to great feasts and balls. Girlishly, I allowed myself to imagine the dozens of swirling couples dancing under crystal chandeliers. But whom would the host have chosen for his partner? Would he have danced only with Verona, his eldest and true wife by rights, or would he have taken the floor in turn with all three?

The thought that Dracula was somewhere under this same roof, that he walked down these same corridors and sat in these same chairs, both frightened and sickened me—to have him so near and yet be helpless against him; to, in some dark, forbidden recess of my mind, be glad of his nearness. I cursed myself. I had grown so soft, so malleable in my own self-pity that I had forgotten my pledge and myself. I had promised Velkan revenge; I had promised my family peace. But I could do nothing. The walls that confined me also kept me safe. I had lost my champion and control of the board now belonged to the Count. I was only a pawn.

A weak, insignificant pawn.

And then a strange thought came to me: just as I was weak, so must he be as well. Immortal or not, every creature, even the most fearsome, has a weakness. So I decided to bide my time until I could discover his. _Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it_. I would wait.

I spied a door off to the side near the top of the grand staircase that stood ajar. Cautiously, I entered and found it opened into a large dining room. Its white ceiling was high with gilded moldings and featured coats of arms on each side with twisting dragons. The walls were also white and gold and Chinese screens painted in blues, greens and pinks covered two of them. I had expected that this, of all rooms in his palace, would be the most unused, but a fire crackled in the grate, the chandeliers were lit, and the table in the center was laid with service for one. A voice close to my elbow almost made me jump out of my skin.

"My lady?" I whirled and saw a smartly-dressed boy no more than twelve standing obediently in a corner. He held a tray much like the ones I had left untouched in the tower and he was staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I smiled gently at him. "What's your name?" I asked. "I won't bite you," I added softly. His hands began to shake.

"You are to take it," he stammered, holding the tray out to me. As I stared at it, my gaze fell to his wrists and I saw that they were bruised and marred by multiple punctures. I felt a flood of anger and pity for this child, left alone to grow up among vampires and cater to their unearthly whims.

I shook my head. "Do they hurt you?" I asked quietly. "Which of them hurts you?"

He was looking at me pleadingly. "You are to take it," he repeated.

Seeing that forbidden abundance so invitingly laid out on the tray in his hands suddenly put me in mind of the ancient story of Persephone, carried off by the lord of the underworld and condemned to half an eternity by his side, and all for six pomegranate seeds. Was this to be my fate also?

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," I said apologetically. He winced. "But you look half-starved, please, eat it if you like," I offered and smiled again.

"Please…" he whispered, "you are to take it." I felt a pang of guilt and gingerly took an apple and put it in my pocket. That seemed to appease him and, with a bow, he exited the room as noiselessly as he had appeared. Once he was out of sight, I withdrew the fabled apple once more and held it up to the light, deliberating. I stared hungrily at the rosy sphere in my hand for a moment before flinging it into the fire and walking swiftly out the door. What punishments have we endured, and what must we all yet suffer, all for a bite of fruit…

I wandered the halls for hours, opening empty room after empty room. Some were filled with books, some with old paintings and _objets d'art_ crowded together on delicate tables, still others were inhabited by strange humped creatures—forgotten furniture shrouded in linen. And some contained nothing at all.

Sometime near nightfall, the distant tinkling of piano keys reached my ears, wafting down from an upper floor. As the notes grew louder, I realized that I knew this song, although I could not say from where, and I felt oddly overcome with homesickness. I followed the sound through empty hallways and up and down endless stairs, not knowing where I was going but determined to get closer to the one familiar thing in this strange place. Somewhere along the way, the tune changed. This one I knew as well, better than the first. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear the words.

Finally, I arrived at the source of the sound. I entered a darkened salon and found the Count sitting alone at a grand piano, playing attentively by the light of a solitary candle. In his somber black attire he seemed to blend into the gloom; only his white face and his hands dancing across the ivory keys were visible and they shone like beacons. I gasped involuntarily, astonished that such beautiful sounds could be created by such evil, and, abruptly, the music stopped.

He scowled at me from over the music rack. We challenged each other in silence until, at last, he spoke. "Do you expect me to kill you?" he drawled wearily. His gaze sharpened and he rose and walked silently towards me until he was close enough that, should he have lifted his arm, he could have caressed my cheek. But he did not touch me. "Do you want me to kill you?" he whispered. He was looking thoughtfully at my neck. "When I left you last, I think perhaps you wanted me to, my little sparrow. I could do it quickly, if you like. One brief moment of pain and your soul would fly straight up to the angels in heaven. It's such a young soul, it hasn't even had the chance to sin yet…" He paused. I dared to let out a long, slow breath. "Ah," he resumed, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "but your kinsman has pledged your soul away… I once thought Emilian Valerious a very wise man. It grieves me to have been so mistaken."

"I wonder that you would bother keeping me here alive, then," I shot back, furious to hear this demon so slander my family. I felt my breaths come faster and my heart began to pound with righteous indignation. "Surely your purpose would be served far better by my corpse."

"Indeed?" he raised a brow. "And what purpose would that be, highness?"

I tossed my head impatiently. "Why am I here?" I ignored his question.

"You know very well why you are here," he replied. "I told you that I would keep you safe. Even against my own better judgment. I would advise you, dear girl, not to test the limits of my clemency."

"Your clemency?" I echoed incredulously, "to be fattened up like some lap dog? You show little mercy, demon."

"You fight too much," he remarked blandly. I blinked, taken aback. "Did your boor of a father never allow you to listen to music?" he asked, resuming his seat at the piano and gently tracing its keys with a hand that could almost be called loving. "Or did he insist on filling your hours with swordplay and tactics?"

"Such things are idle extravagances," I snapped. No, my father had never allowed Velkan or me to listen to music, or to play it. The sword was the only instrument we were taught to wield. My mother had once tried to teach me to dance, but my father intervened and scolded her fiercely for filling our heads with such 'empty vanities.' Did she not understand, he had said, that we were to live special and separate lives? I felt a sudden rush of resentment. "A sonata never won a battle," I railed, "you cannot eat a concerto. They are good for nothing."

The Count shook his head without raising his eyes from the keyboard.

"Truly?" he said softly. "Without such _extravagances_, as you say, the soul cannot thrive. You fight so hard for your kind, my little warrior, but you haven't even the slightest idea of what it really is to be human."

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it rapidly, flustered. I felt my cheeks grow hot. And then suddenly, inexplicably, I wanted to cry. Every sharp retort fled from my mind and I stood in confused silence. How I wished he would play again… With nothing else to say, I asked the dreaded question, the one that I was secretly most desperate to have answered.

"What was that song you were playing?" I hoped I sounded disinterested.

"You've heard it before," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I answered. His eyes did not leave mine; for a moment it seemed that he was examining my very soul. At length, he sighed and looked away.

"Your mother used to sing it to you," he said simply, his eyes remained fixed on the keys in front of him.

"And the one before that?" I continued recklessly.

He did not answer for a long time and when, at last, he did, his words were flat.

"Ah…that one." Again he paused and a pained expression crossed his face. "That one I sang to you. Long ago…you would not remember."

I stood dumbfounded. He _what?_

"And now, if you please, my dear, you have interrupted my reverie," he said curtly. "I'll bid you goodnight." The moment, whatever it was, was over. Dazed, I turned towards the door; my eyes smarted shamefully.

Later, after I left him and returned to my room, I lay awake listening to the distant rumble of thunder. And I remembered long ago waking during another of those storms that used to terrify me, too afraid to leave the safety of my bed to seek comfort from Velkan or my parents, quaking with fear as thunder shook the walls of my bedroom and wind lashed the trees outside. I remembered a cool hand stroking my hair. I remembered a lap and a pair of strong arms rocking me slowly, and a low voice singing that song in my ear. His voice.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, little one," he had said, gently lifting me from my bed and carrying me to the window. "Do you see? Nothing at all. It is just the sky talking to the earth."

I was afraid, but, for some reason, not of him. I had buried my face in his shoulder, hiding in the folds of his cloak. "But why is it so angry?" I had whimpered, raising wide, dark eyes to his calm blue ones. They were the color of the night sky when it was clear, I had thought, the kind of sky that did not frighten me. And he had lifted a white hand to brush my tousled hair back from my face and smiled sadly.

"Oh," he had whispered, "the sky is not angry, little princess, just lonely. Wouldn't you be would be lonely too if you were up there all alone with no one to talk to? And with everyone afraid of you?"

"I 'spose," I had yawned, feeling suddenly warm and sleepy. "He must be very sad." He had carried me slowly back to my bed and set me down. He had fluffed my pillows and gently eased me back into them, drawing the covers up snugly over my small shoulders and crouching by my head. I had sighed contentedly as long, cool fingers caressed my brow. My eyelids felt very heavy.

"Yes, little one," he had replied, his expression earnest, tender, and strangely wistful, "I think he _is_ sad. You see, the sky can be a lovely place if you let him. He does not mean to frighten little girls."

"Oh…I'm sorry," I had mumbled sleepily, frowning. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Will you tell him? Please? And that I'll be his friend?"

"I'll tell him, Anna." He had kissed my forehead softly. "It will make him very happy."

He had resumed singing that strange song and I had closed my eyes and snuggled deep under my covers, no longer afraid, feeling safe and warm. And when I had opened them, he was gone and the sun was streaming through the window.

Now, as I lay alone in the darkness in Vilkova Palace, I wondered how it could have been that the man I had always been told was an unfeeling monster had once cared to soothe a frightened child. And I wondered what other memories I had buried.

_Once upon a time and long ago  
I heard someone singing soft and low  
Now when day is done and night is near  
I recall this song I used to hear  
My child, my very own  
Don't be afraid, you're not alone  
Sleep until the dawn for all is well  
Long ago this song was sung to me  
Now it's just a distant melody  
Somewhere from the past I used to know  
Once upon a time and long ago._

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**Look! I updated! So now go review! (Pretty pretty please!). The song is "Distant Melody" from Peter Pan (B'way _not_ Disney, 1952). Will Anna _ever_ stop being so emo? Is Dracula really Barney the Purple Dinosaur with the little ones? We're about to learn some things about Count Smackula that will blow your knickers off. Maybe. So tune in next time to find out!**

(Of course, in order for there to be a next time, you must **REVIEW! YAY REVIEWS!**)

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**Author's Notes:** I'll keep these brief because this shizz is loooong already. 'Anca' is a pet form of Anna and '_meu şoricel_' means 'my little mouse.' The name of Anna's pony, Ursu, is Romanian for 'Bear.' Emilian Valerious is, of course, Valerious the Elder (I thought he'd better have a name...and this one is significant, bwahaha). All the books that Anna finds in her room are real (and available at an Amazon near you!). Loose influences on this chapter include _The Return of the King_ and _Jane Eyre_.

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** Overdue Thank Yous:**

**Rezangel92:** Hmm…will I kill off Aleera as per the film? I don't want to spoil it for you, only time will tell…

**Shoysrock:** Yay! I'm glad you liked it! I've been trying hard to keep Vladdypants in character, he's such a sexy shthead. Are you writing anything now?

**Elenna Starlight:** Well, I don't know if you'll read this, but I just want to say thanks for reading and, if Dracula fics are no longer your thing, I respect that. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

**SMoonEmpress:** A new reviewer, score! I'm glad you like it so far, thanks for the compliments and sorry for the wait!

**Cheryljulia:** You rule, I hope you'll keep reading and that I won't disappoint.

**Liveforthedream:** I still need to review your awesome story, shame on me! I must say that it was very inspirational for me when I wrote my oneshot. You are seriously talented, so I'm very flattered that you're reading, reviewing, and enjoying!

**Forever:** Your reviews are so funny—I would be such a sourpuss without them! You picked out some of my favorite parts in here—the bit with Verona was something I wrote very early and I was so happy to post it. I really wanted to get at Dracula's underlying, remaining humanity and I always felt like she would have been the one that drew it out in him. I have to agree with Hell Harpie that Verona would have been the one bride he had married for love—or, at least, for the dream of love; the others were made out of vanity and boredom but Verona, I think, was special and, because of that, his most precious. I think he looked at her and thought "if I could love, I would have loved you." Does that make sense? Anyway, thanks for your awesome review! Pom-poms at the ready!

**Lady Linnet:** You're still reading, awesome! Yeah, a guilt-ridden Vlad is pretty sweet…he's such an interesting character. I hope you like where he's going… (NOT to real Fluff, I swear…eew Fluff.)

**Agent Adina:** You're back!!! Yay! I was scared you'd lost interest in my silly story, but you're here! I hope you're feeling better, and I'm sorry it took me so long to update (it's my turn to apologize now, I suck). I second your question, why am I not Anna Valerious? That lucky bitch…haha.

**VintageLyre:** Yeah seriously, bad Vlad! But the softness will stay…it will come and go, but it will stay. He is a very, very damaged man. Thanks for reviewing!!

**TheStoryGypsy:** It feels weird burying you in the middle of this list, but I thank peeps in 'order received' so, yeah… You are the best. You know this chapter would never have been written without your hand-holding and sentence-by-sentence validation. You're one of a handful of people who really get what I'm trying to say here, and I love that you analyze in your reviews—it's so awesome to have someone else unpack all the allusions, layers, and other crap that I pile in here and, I hope, have fun with it. What you pick out here is Dracula's essential narcissism. He doesn't have empathy, only sympathy. What a cool character to dissect at 3 in the morning, we must continue…

**Celtic Aurora:** Hey there! I'm so glad you're reading and reviewing! Yeah, I was surprised myself at how emo Anna is in these chapters, but she's been through hell so I guess she can be forgiven. Hopefully you'll see her moving gradually out of her depression and coming to terms with herself and her new situation. The Emo Hat can't be worn forever. Thanks again!

**Clara:** Last Unicorn love! The line I filched is actually "I will not touch you…you may come and go as you please," but close enough! The cages and chains crap is the product of my own twisted mind. Thanks for the encouragement and advice, sorry this took so freaking long! ;p

**Lorien Urbani:** I. Love. You. Really, you are so phenomenal, your reviews amaze me with their depth and thoughtful critique every time. It's so flattering and cool to have someone put the same effort into reading a chapter that I put into writing it. This review really leaves me speechless. All the things you pick out are the things I was thinking when I wrote the chapter and more. I'm not sure I can say more than I said in my review reply, so I'll just leave it at this: thank you, thank you, thank you, you are one of the reasons I keep writing. You are truly brilliant and amazing.

**Mischarose:** Hello there yourself! I'm so glad you're reading and reviewing! I can't imagine what you must have gone through with your dad, and I'm really touched and flattered that my treatment of Anna's grief resonated with you. Thanks for all your comments, "tall, dark and evil"—I love it!

**Ray:** Oh no, no dying unhappy is allowed! I'm sorry for the long wait, and I feel you on the insomnia. I'm thrilled you like it so far, thanks for reviewing!

**Annadracula:** Yay, it's you! Yup, _The Last Unicorn_ it is, you got me! I love that movie…I practically memorized it when I was a kid.

**Susannah:** A new reader--huzzah! Thanks for reviewing!

**Kriitkko: **Hallo indeed! Are you the one from Quebec? If so, that's seriously cool. My French is so rusty right now (which I'm realizing as I try to translate an article on the Council of Trent…yikes). I'm always amazed by the people on this board who are bilingual. I'm really flattered that you like the story, I hope you like the next chapters! Merci beaucoup et à bientôt!

**Tabber-bookworm:**First off, I love your penname. I'm really touched and flattered by your kind words and I'll do my best not to disappoint. Thank you so much!

**Stacy Gargoyle:** Ah, fresh blood—er, I mean, a new reader! I'm psyched you're reading, reviewing, and liking. Thanks a ton!!

13


	13. Preludes

**I'm baaaaack!** Alert the media/parole board/neighborhood watch! Haha. Once again, I'm sorry this took so long to update, things have been a bit crazy of late. I do, however, have a **new oneshot** that I posted about a month ago, a scene between Dracula and Verona/Verona character study entitled **"Goodnight Lovers,"** that I would love for you to check out (and review haha ;p) if you're interested. I recommend it to fans of the Emo Hat. Let's just get into it, shall we?

This was originally intended to be part of a larger and more important chapter, but I found that the Big Chapter was a bit too ambitious—it tried to cover too much information and, as a result, a lot of interesting (in my opinion) details got lost in the mix—and that it worked much better as two shorter chapters. So think of this (as the title indicates) as a prelude to the next chapter. And yes, I am on a big T.S. Eliot kick right now.

I do have to say, your response to this story so far has truly touched and humbled me, I am so flattered that you guys are into it. Your thoughtful criticism (I'm always open to con-crit), insights, encouragement, and compliments have totally floored me. You all rock my face off. Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this chapter (I think you'll see why), and I hope that you all will enjoy reading it!

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**Chapter 12: Preludes**

_I am moved by fancies that are curled  
Around these images and cling:  
The notion of some infinitely gentle  
Infinitely suffering thing._

-T.S. Eliot

--

Little by little, as the strangeness of the place and my grief for my brother had subsided, I had become something of myself again. I was Anna, still frightened and alone, but I was myself. I don't know precisely what wrought this great change in me; I know only that I awoke with a greater sense of peace than I had felt after I had dreamt of Velkan. A greater sense of purpose. Something deep within me, something that had lain silent for long years ever since I had learned the catechism in the village church, insisted that I had been brought here for a reason. And as it whispered with increasing urgency in my ear, I remembered Velkan's last instructions—"do what you must and do what is right." How childish I had been in the face of his kindness and calm, vowing myself incapable, insisting that I did not know how to accomplish it. Of course I did not know—I had realized one of those nights, when I was alone in the darkness at Vilkova, that there were many things I did not know. I did not know the Count; I did not know myself. Perhaps, here in my own kind of limbo, I would learn. Perhaps, here, I would find the way.

The Count's counter-attack was delivered the following night. I did not know much of his ways then, but I knew enough to know that he was not one to allow such little moments of weakness and softness as had betrayed him the night before to stand for long without some sort of correction. In his mind, when I interrupted him at his music, he had spoken not the truth in a moment of unguarded honesty but, rather, a foul fiction that was born from another, false self that he had long fought to keep in check. Moreover, I have since learned, he thought me responsible for this doppelganger's unleashing, and thus he would seek to punish me—as well as himself—for its indiscretion. That next night, quite by chance, a weapon came to hand.

He found me contemplating the large doors in the entrance hall. They were not so very big, but they were ornately carved and gilded in places, they were guarded by twisting dragons wrought right into the handles that stared back at me with glittering ruby eyes, and they would not open. No twist of their handles, no jimmying of their lock, no force of my body against them could induce them to budge. I was on all fours attempting to peer beneath them when he spoke.

"Those doors will not open unless I myself wish them to." His voice rang out, metallic and cold, across the marble floor. "But, by all means, do continue to beg them and perhaps their resolve will soften" he gestured mockingly to me kneeling before the doors. I sprang clumsily to my feet, mortified. "Did you honestly think it would be so simple as all that, highness?" he remarked dryly. "If so, you are a greater fool than I thought."

My cheeks flushed angrily as I stormed past him. I would have preferred cruelty—abuse, seduction even—to this implacable scorn. He thought me beneath him, and that I could not bear. But there it was; he had been running circles around me from the very beginning, and I could never catch up. And all he did was smile.

I had almost reached the stairs when his voice stopped me in my tracks. "Wait," he barked, and carelessly held up one hand without turning to look at me, "I did not dismiss you." Oh, he was enjoying himself!

"I was not aware," I glared at his back as I struggled to regain my dignity, "that I needed your permission. Did you not say that I could come and go as I pleased?"

"I did," came his clipped reply, "but you have abused that privilege. I also said that you were my hostage, and I think perhaps that it is high time that you be treated as such. You will not move a muscle, my dear, unless I give you leave to do so." Outraged, I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could even utter a syllable he cut me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "I wasn't finished. Jozsi tells me you are not eating. Is this true?"

"Jozsi," I echoed flatly.

"My valet. He says that you neglect your food, is he mistaken?"

"Why do you care?" I answered hotly, tossing my head with as much righteous indignation as possible.

He set his jaw firmly: "I will not have it said that I allowed a lady to starve under my care or treated her with inhumanity." At this, I raised a spiteful brow. "Do I make myself quite clear, highness? The boy will bring your food and you will eat it."

"I wonder, Count, that a creature like you would lower itself to the humane," I retorted. "Are we not all base, inferior things, destined, like that poor boy, only for _your_ dinner tray?"

To this he had no answer; his expression changed from one of impatience to one of puzzlement. "I beg your pardon?" he asked at last.

I do not know what moved me then, as it had when I first encountered him, to pity that child who was so wholly unconnected with me. I have never been sentimental; in fact, I knew very well that, if not for him, it might very well be my blood that filled the crystal glasses at the Count's high table. But in the days I had spent under his guard I had learned something of captivity and what it was to be alone and friendless. So I summoned all the strength that had, with Velkan's death, deserted me and spoke:

"I saw the wounds on his wrists, demon, where else could they have come from? What, is there not enough blood in this great city for you to glut yourself upon?" I felt my throat tighten and my cheeks grow hot as I railed at him. "To think that our country once thought you great and powerful; feasting on a helpless child—that's the most cowardly thing I've ever heard."

"Enough!" he roared; the look he gave me was so terrible that I fell silent. "You speak of things you know _nothing_ about."

"But—"

"I said hold your tongue, girl!" Much to my surprise and chagrin, I obeyed. "Aleera…" he muttered under his breath.

I moved to walk up the stairs a second time, and this time he did not stop me. I tore down darkened corridors without a care for my direction, desperate to get away from the Count and his duplicitous tongue. I swore aloud, he made me feel like a child! At home, I would have run straight to my room and flung myself on my bed to sulk in private, but here…here he would look for me in my chambers. No, that would not do; the one place that ought to have been for myself alone would afford me no privacy. I made instead for the library. I would lose myself in a book, I consoled myself, I would sit on the floor, hidden completely behind the drapes, and imagine myself far, far away.

But when I careened over the threshold he was already there, lounging on a divan with one leg slung carelessly over the other. He lifted his right arm from its back in greeting. "Ah," he drawled, "this is a much more congenial setting for a _tête-à-tête_, wouldn't you agree?" I blushed scarlet and had the sudden urge to burst into frustrated tears. With no other way to hide my face, I stared sullenly at the floor. This only seemed to entertain him further. "Please," he gestured decorously at a chair facing him, a smug grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, "sit." But I knew it was no request.

Grudgingly, I complied. "I don't see what we two could _possibly_ have to talk about," I grumbled.

"I am surrounded by corpses. Can you blame me, my dear, if I find myself yearning for gentler company?" he replied, massaging his brow between his thumb and forefinger. "I feel precisely one thousand years old tonight. Come," he clapped his hands, "amuse me! Remind me of what it is like to be young."

I said nothing.

"Well?" he prodded impatiently.

Still nothing. We sat in stony silence until I could bear it no longer; I blew an errant lock of hair out of my face crossly. "Why am I here?" I asked him. He sighed heavily, as if I had said something that was at once painful and inconvenient.

"I grow weary of having to repeat myself. You ask me the same question every night, princess, and every night my answer is the same. I wish to have you near me."

"But why?" I persisted; I was fed up with his games. "Have you not crowed over your victory enough? Is your vanity yet unsatisfied?"

He made no answer, but he rose rapidly to his feet and walked a short distance away to look out the window at the empty streets below and watch the merchant boats travel slowly up the river. His back, silent and still, glowered at me. "Because you are beautiful," he whispered finally. His next words seemed to disgust him. "There is so little beauty in this world, and so much suffering," he spat, "do you think that is what your God had in mind?"

I shivered in spite of the fire roaring in the grate. All words escaped me.

At that moment, however, we were interrupted by the soft sound of furtive, feminine footsteps and Aleera—if it were possible, even more devastatingly beautiful—rounded the corner. She was decked out in all of her finery with her cheeks impeccably rouged and her dark eyes softly lined in black kohl. She wore a new dress, I noticed, a stylish Chinese sheath in pale opal silk that perfectly hugged each and every curve. Her arms shone with gold and there was a flash of jewels at her throat. Spotting me, she wrinkled up her lovely face as if she smelled something noisome.

"Who let you out of your pen?" she sneered.

"I don't think I care for your tone, my angel," Dracula swept past her to resume his seat. "Where are your manners?" With one last withering glance in my direction, Aleera turned her full attention to her husband.

"What on earth are you doing hidden away in here, dearest?" she fluttered her eyelashes prettily at him, "I've been looking for you since sundown!"

"I did not call for you," he said tersely. "My guest and I have some things to discuss." His choice of words perked my interest. Why refer to me in such generous terms in front of Aleera who, more than he, I think, wished me nothing but misery?

"Then I shall join you," she said, sauntering over to sit beside him.

"You most certainly shall not," the Count declared and he shot her a poisonous look, which she pointedly ignored. "If you wish to stay," he went on, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you may sit in that chair by the window and be ornamental." At this, she thrust her lower lip out petulantly. "Or, if that would be too taxing for you, my love, you are free to leave. I will find you when I want you again."

I watched with some uncertainty as Aleera yawned and, as if it were entirely her own idea, she abandoned the divan and walked slowly toward the window in her usual, practiced, swinging gait. She wrapped her fingers around the stiff velvet drapes and leaned despondently against the frame. "Oh," she lamented, "if only this horrid rain would stop—"

"If only _you_ would stop," the Count muttered with contempt. I held back a smile.

"—We could go out into the city and be seen at plays and balls…we could go to the opera!" She looked at him expectantly. But then, as his insult finally dawned on her, she frowned at us and, sticking her nose up in the air resolutely, she flounced over to the bookshelves and began randomly pulling out only the thickest volumes with a studied air. She would pretend to flip through the pages of each one for a moment or two before sighing dramatically in exasperation and replacing it roughly on the shelf, all the while casting surreptitious glances in our direction. The Count grimaced slightly at her display and then turned back to me.

"You must forgive Aleera, my dear," he said, "she is unused to entertaining company."

"I see…" I replied. I grasped now that his show of politeness and courtesy was not for my benefit but was, rather, a weapon to use against his eager bride. This realization made me somewhat uncomfortable; I cannot deny that I felt some satisfaction at seeing Aleera so neatly set down, but I have never liked being used. As the Count idly twiddled his thumbs I cocked a dubious brow.

"I trust your rooms are to your liking?"

"You are concerned for my comfort?" I challenged. He ignored me.

"Are you finding everything that you require?"

"Oh, I'm so_ hungry_!" Aleera whined to her book.

I nodded. "Other than the way out…" I mumbled. I smirked at my own wit, but again he ignored me and continued on.

"All Hallow's Eve is a week from Thursday," he said. "It is my habit to give a ball." Instantly, Aleera's posture changed and she began to beam triumphantly as her breath halted in anticipation.

"I don't see what that has to do with me," I snapped, wishing desperately that the two of them would just leave me in peace. But inwardly I softened. _A ball_, I thought privately to myself, _a ball like the one I imagined at the top of the stairs. How beautiful it must be…_

"I expect you to attend." When I automatically opened my mouth to protest, he added, "please do try and fit it into your busy schedule."

Aleera scowled. And then she appeared to reconsider—perhaps she would try a different tactic; she put on a dazzling smile.

"My lord," she murmured sweetly, "will you not come to bed?" She wrapped her soft arms around his neck, pressing her bosom into his shoulder, her hands suggestively splayed over his chest. For a moment, the Count seemed to seriously consider her invitation and leaned into her hold. Smirking at me, she bent her fiery head to nibble his ear, but then he abruptly rose from his chair and brushed her aside.

"Not now," he said coldly. "Leave us."

She did not move. "Why do you trouble yourself with this gypsy scum?" Her voice was shrill as she pawed at him desperately. "My lord, she is beneath you! I am your wife! Do I not please you?" she pouted. When he did not answer, she draped herself over his arm. He absently tried to push her away. "_Master,_" she purred, refusing to let go.

I turned away from them, disgusted. The way that she fawned over him was nauseating. When at his side she hung on his arm, pressing her body against his. Even when he was on the other side of the room, she leaned towards him like a moth instinctively draws near a flame, as if words alone could not express her longing for closeness.

The Count considered his spurned lover for a moment. Her full, parted lips quivered as she looked at him plaintively.

"Your necklace, my love," he said softly, brushing her emerald choker with a long finger. Her eyes lit up when he drew closer to examine it and she shook her coppery hair back, baring her neck to him, preening. "It does not suit you."

The smile was wiped clean from her face and her eyes grew wide in astonishment. "My lord?" she asked hesitantly.

His voice continued, calm and deadly: "Aleera, that was not yours to take."

Her eyes narrowed. She drew herself up proudly. "She has no use for it anymore," she declared, folding her arms snobbishly. Even I was taken aback by her boldness.

The Count's gaze lingered on the green stones. "Take it off," he whispered.

She stood motionless, gaping at him. I watched her draw into herself, yet she seemed to double her power and, to my amazement, she shook her head defiantly. He took a controlled step forward.

"Take it off," he ordered her, "or I will remove your pretty little head from your neck and do it for you."

Aleera took a long, ragged breath. Slowly, she raised one slim hand to the back of her neck and undid the clasp. The gems clattered as they fell and hit the floor at her feet. "As you say, my lord," she said through gritted teeth. Suppressing a sob, she angrily kicked them over to her husband, who regarded her with a mixture of disdain and triumph. And then she exploded. "What must I do to prove my devotion to you, master? Tell me, what shall I say, how am I to act? _I_ am here! Verona is _dead_ and still you favor her!"

The Count observed her histrionics impassively. "You wish to know how to please me, pet?" he asked her at last.

"It is my only wish," she whispered, stricken.

"You can get out of my sight," he hissed. "And Aleera?" She glared at him with marbled tears in her eyes. "My darling," he cooed, "if I hear that you have disobeyed my orders again, if I hear that you have touched _my_ things or _my_ servants, I will throw you out into the sun myself. Is that understood?"

She nodded miserably.

"Oh, come now," he chided her, "why so glum? I did not create you for your frowns, dearest." He smirked and held his hand out to her. "Come," he spoke to her as one addresses small child, "come here." Obediently, she embraced him and kissed his cheek. "Now go and rest, you look a mess."

Dracula's second bride hung her head in defeat and quietly slunk away. I cannot explain it but, somehow, I pitied her, and I felt a pang of guilt, for I knew that I had been complicit in her undoing. Sickened, I turned to leave as well, but the Count's voice pulled me back over the threshold. "Not so hasty, if you please!" he called. "You will stay."

I drew myself up to my full height. "Why?" I inquired sharply. "Have you not spoken enough abuse for one evening? You may treat your wife like some dog to be kicked, Count, but you will not treat me so."

The change of his countenance was extraordinary; the beautiful man vanished and, for a split second, I glimpsed the demon that he really was. His eyes seemed to glow an icy blue and great white teeth extended past his lips. "My wife!" he roared; he began pacing furiously. "You know nothing of _my wife!_"

Genuinely frightened, I shrank back against the wall as he fought with himself. His hands were balled tightly into fists, his breathing was labored, and what looked suspiciously like tears hovered in his narrowed eyes. I had said something very, very wrong, I realized, and I tried to make myself very, very small. Slowly, I inched towards the door; if only I could reach it without angering him further; if only I had listened when my mother had warned me about my hot temper and quick tongue. I half expected him to strike me. "No," I whispered, shaking my head to prove my sincerity, "I don't…"

I hardly dared to breathe. Slowly, the Count returned to himself. He was panting heavily and gripped the mantle to hold himself upright. The vein in his forehead throbbed. "Forgive me," he gasped, I could hear the struggle still in his voice; "I forgot myself."

But I continued, terrified, to back towards the door. "I," I stuttered, "I will not trouble you, Count."

"No," he held up a hand to stop me. For a long moment he was silent; he appeared to be considering something of grave importance and weighing it in his mind. He opened his mouth and then shut it again; he shook his head and gingerly massaged his temples. Finally he sighed and, nodding resolutely, he looked up at me. "Sit down, my dear, please," he said, gesturing once more towards the chair that I had vacated. "I think it high time you learned the truth about this war between our families."

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There, u can has updatez. Now I can has reviewz pls? K thx bai.** But oh noes, a cliffie!** If you persuade me effectively, I just might be inclined to write the next chapter faster…bwahahaha. All the answers await…**SO REVIEW! Push the sexy purple button! You love the purple button!** (It's so hot right now...)

I've noticed that a lot of people lately have added this story to their favorites and/or alert lists, but haven't reviewed--I'd love to hear from you! I'm not asking for a long essay, but a few lines about what you like/don't like/would like to see more of would really make my day (or just a note to say hi).

**A/N:** Jozsi is short for Jozsef, the Hungarian equivalent of Joseph. I thought it would be a good name for a boy (effectively) sold into slavery, since in Genesis Joseph (the owner of the coat of many colors) is sold by his envious older brothers to a band of Ishmaelite traders and ends up as a slave in Egypt (he later the Pharaoh's chief advisor, but that's beside the point.)

Lastly, a brief note on time, since I have a feeling I'll get questions about this: I know that in the movie it seemed as though Anna spent maybe a day or two in Budapest. However, given where she and Van Helsing were when she was abducted, it seemed impossible that he and Carl could have gotten all the way up north to Budapest so quickly. Also, it was a full moon right before they left Vaseria, and it's a full moon again when they get back so, logically, a month must have passed, right? Thus, I've decided that Anna spends about two weeks with Dracula in Budapest, after a week on the road with Carl and Frankie. Does that clear things up? I hope so.

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**Muchos Gracias (or however you spell it):**

**TheStoryGypsy: **You did not review but you are still awesome so, look! you get a thank you! You tell me what you think about each sentence as I write it, so, as my Official Hand-Holder, you get a special dispensation. Speaking of reviews, I think I owe you some…yeah, I should get on that. Oops.

**mischarose:** Yeah, if I can borrow from Shrek, I will say that vampires (and the chicks that hunt them) are like onions: they've got a load of layers. Hopefully I'll be able to get through a bunch more of them soon! I think you're absolutely right, Dracula and Anna _do_ need one another in a very desperate and basic way, and that's what I hope will really be at the heart of this story. And yeah, you nailed it—since D. Dawg was all fluffy in the last chapter, that means he's being a real jerkface in this one. What a turd.

**kriitikko: **Well I think Finland is way cooler than Quebec, so rock on. As for the servant boy…I'm not sure whether or not he'll play a part here yet, but at least now he has a name! Thanks for reviewing!

**VintageLyre:** Yay, so glad you liked it! Yeah, I will reveal (my spin) on why Draccy is such a poohead. Needless to say, I think he's justified. Thanks!

**Celtic Aurora:** Hopefully the purple dinosaur was replaced here with the foul, temperamental creature I affectionately call the Draccy-saurus Rex. Roar. I hear you on the Emo Hat thing…sometimes Anna is _really_ annoying.

**Shoys:** I do live! Kind of…meh. Anyway, huzzah for your new writing efforts, I'll be sure to check it out when it lands on the ff.insane board.

**Forever: **Omg, I heart you. That was such a deep, thoughtful, and awesome review. Did I reply? I hope I did, if not then I suck and I'll get to it post-haste. Oh, so you want to know more about the 'her' and the shizz in the box? Funny you should say that…bwahahaha. Valerious the Jerkface will come in as well. 'Emilian' means 'rival'…that should give you an idea. But yeah, what a douche. I dislike Valerious the Elder, yes I do. And, lastly, yes you should be scared that you remember so much about Barney. You should be scared for your soul.

**Stacy Gargoyle:** You're back! Yeah, I felt bad about the delay. Honestly, I usually update as soon as I've finished writing, but sometimes it just takes me a really long time to get each chapter where I want it to be…I'm picky. And sometimes the muse is a little turd and abandons me—bad muse! Anyway, I'm really glad you liked it, and apologies again (to everyone) for taking forever. :) Thanks!

**Rezangel92:** Yep, our Draccy is a weird one…

**Matrino:** You should absolutely write! I lurked around for quite a while before I finally decided to try writing, and I'm really glad I did. It was really hard at the beginning but it's slowly getting easier…do it do it do it! I'll try and write the next chapter as quickly as I can…thanks!

**annadracula:** Bingo, you win the prize for identifying the Boy Biter. As for Anna always getting embarrassed and frustrated around the Count, yeah, she does that a lot. I think he makes her really uncomfortable. Anna's very proud and she's used to being in control of the situation, but when she's around Dracula she usually has the lower hand, which makes her flustered. Poor Anna…

**Lorien Urbani:** Devoutly to be wished indeed! Yesterday I was watching Black Adder (a British comedy series about the fictional son of Prince Richard of York—one of the two princes in the tower), which recycles a good portion of the speeches from Henry V and, in the credits, Shakespeare is credited with "additional dialogue." Awesome. Anyway, wow, you always amaze me with your insight. You constantly point out things—details, interpretations, etc.—that I never even thought of consciously. I'd meant "you belong to the dead" to refer to her being the prisoner of the undead (and her fear of death), but I think you're absolutely right: she has, indeed, surrounded herself by ghosts, to the point where she cannot go on living because she is so thoroughly mired in the "dead" world of the past. Anyway, I'm so glad you liked the chapter, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed reading your review. Seriously, I think I look forward to yours most of all. Thanks a TON!

**Elenna:** Yay! You're still reading! I am _so_ flattered and moved by your kind words. Really, I'm amazed that someone would want to read my pitiful writing—it makes it all worthwhile. I'll absolutely check out your friend's work, thanks so much for the review!

**Clara:** Yay, you're back! I'll address your review for my oneshot here too, since I can't do a review reply. My jaw fell on the floor and I turned beet red when you suggested that I publish/asked if I had already done so. It's something that I'd love to do, but haven't done yet. If that dream is ever realized, you guys will be the first to know (after my parents haha). So wow, thank you. I think I know the _Last Unicorn _line you meant: "Keep your poor shadows if you will, but let me go. And let her go. I cannot see her caged. She is real, like me. We are two sides of the same magic. Let her go." Was that it?

**sweetquerida1800:**Oooh, a new reader, hooray! As for the end…well, I have to have some secrets now don't I…haha. But I will say that I, too, was very dissatisfied with ending of the movie (well, maybe with more than just the ending), so don't expect an exact mirror. Thanks for reviewing!

**bsblover17/Susanah:**It's you! Thanks for the review, I hope Draccy was evil enough for ya here ;p. I love making him act like a jerk…there is something wrong with me.

And thanks to all who read, even if you don't review. I'd love it if you did, but I'm still just happy that people read at all.


	14. In The Beginning

**Hey everyone!** Well this chapter was a long time coming, for the simple reason that it was the hardest one to write yet. First-person Dracula is **difficult**, so I hope I've managed to do him justice here and in the next chapter. Which brings me to my next point. Once again, I have had to cut a chapter in **half**. I am already looking at about 15 pages for the "complete" chapter 13, so rather than make you read something that long, I decided to find a stopping point and make it into two chapters. The next chapter picks up right where this one left off--no time breaks, or anything like that. I just really felt that the entire story of Vladdypants Dracula couldn't be condensed/confined to a single chapter. What can I say, the dude talks a lot.

Speaking of talking a lot, I should probably shut up now and let you read the chapter. Over and out!

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**Chapter 13: In the Beginning**

_In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was a vast waste, darkness covered the deep, and the spirit of God hovered over the surface of the water. God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light; and God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from darkness._

-Genesis 1:1-4

_In the beginning was the word._

-John 1:1

--

"What truth?" I gaped dumbly at him. I suddenly could not feel my feet; my ears began to hum.

"You don't know?" This was not a question—I found that he often asked questions to which he already had the answer and made requests to which he would suffer no refusal. It was strange, but it seemed as if all the authority and weight with which he had carried himself since bringing me to Vilkova suddenly vanished, as if the mask of arrogant youth and vigor suddenly fell away to reveal the tired, old man beneath it. When I did not answer, he continued with bitterness in his voice: "Surely they spoke of me, what convenient tales did they tell you?"

I had heard the stories, of course I had. I had heard the stories ever since I had been old enough to understand the words they contained. I heard the stories when sitting on my father's knee; I heard the stories when he first put a sword in my hand; I heard the stories when I was denied permission to go to the celebrations on St. Nicholas's Day with Jakob Ivanescu; I heard the stories at my mother's funeral. I thought I had heard them all.

"_Vlad Drakula,"_ my father always began, _"was _Voivode_—Prince—of Wallachia, a place one hundred miles to the south."_ Here, he would get up and take me by the hand over to the large map that adorned the north wall of his study. _"See?"_ he would point to the little dot marked 'Vaseria,' _"here we are, and all this is our province of Transylvania. And here is Sighişoara, where Drakula was born, and down here, across the Carpathian mountains, is Wallachia."_ I would nod enthusiastically as if I were hearing it all for the first time and he would take me back to his big chair. _"In those days, Transylvania was part of Hungary, as it is now, and in time the king of Hungary made Drakula _Voivode_ there too, and our family advised him, as we had counseled his father before him."_

"_Truly, Papa?"_ I would gasp in astonishment. And he would nod sagely.

"_In those days—do you know how long ago that was? That's right, the fifteenth century. And do you know what century we are in now, Anca? Yes, the nineteenth century, that's very good, four hundred years later, so that was a very long time ago. Now, in those days, we were at war with the Ottomans, the same Ottomans who live in Turkey now. All of Christendom was at war with their Sultan, because they did not believe in God or Jesus. They wanted to take our lands from us, and then little girls like you would not be allowed to go to church._

"_At first, Drakula was very brave and fought zealously to protect us from the invaders. And they feared him, they called him "türke-katil," which means "Turk killer," and scattered at his approach. He once crossed the Danube at night and raided the camp of the Sultan himself, killing thousands of infidel soldiers. Another time,"—_his voice would drop and my eyes would grow large with fright, knowing what came next—_"when the Sultan dared cross the river to enter Drakula's deserted capital at Tirgoviste, he found no living army, but rather a legion of staked dead, thousands upon thousands of people impaled on great wooden stakes, with his favorite general, Hamza, at their head, and he turned and fled._

"_But then he began to lust for more blood and soon we could not control him. He was no longer content with Turkish corpses, and so to even his own countrymen he did many terrible things. He lured the country's poor to a banquet where he burned them alive. When he was appointed _Voivode_ he had all the young boys who had come from other lands to learn his language burned, even those no bigger than you, Anca. Men, women, and children, all were suspected of crimes, of sedition, of plotting, and do you know what would happen to all those people?"_ I would nod my head, afraid, and he would go to a chest in the corner and take out a broken piece of wood, smooth and round, and pointed at the tip—too large for my childish hands to span—and place it upright in my lap._ "That's right,"_ he would say approvingly,_ "up, up, taller than the tree-tops! And he would sit among them and feast and make merry, and listen to their dying screams as if they were beautiful music."_

"_But how did you stop him, Papa?"_ I would ask, and I looked up half-expecting to see him in front of me now and to find myself back in his study at home with the dogs and a roaring fire. But I was far away from home, and the man standing before me, looking at me expectantly, was not my father.

"You were a monster," I forced myself to look straight into the Count's clear, blue eyes as I poured out centuries' of hate; I thought I saw him flinch. "You slaughtered your own people, they had no choice but to take you down. You broke our family's heart." At this mention of my ancestors he looked nauseated. And then he laughed.

"Their _heart_…they presume to talk of hearts… And _this_ is the reason they give to their children? My, this is most informative, an entire war for a few mortal indiscretions?" He looked at me incredulously. But then, seeing something in my expression, his eyes narrowed. "Oh, but there is more…"

"They said you were a traitor," I whispered. The_ Unspeakable Act_, my father had called it. I never knew what it was.

"Indeed?" His eyes gleamed dangerously but his voice remained soft. "I am a traitor now, am I? Forgive me, my dear, but I must say I find their choice of words a bit…odd. And do you believe these stories, little one?" I noticed then that he was gripping the edge of the spindly table at his side tightly enough to blanch his unnaturally white knuckles and rattle the crystal decanter on its top. And while his words were easy, calm, and measured and cool like soft velvet, I saw that his jaw was clenched ever so slightly with unmistakable tension.

"I—," I faltered, unsure of how to answer.

The Count smiled indulgently, his brow relaxed. "Never mind that. Pray, continue," he purred; it was plainly obvious that he was only toying with me now. But what could I do but comply?

"They tried to reason with you…"

"Lies!" he spat. His face flushed and his eyes paled, but he stopped himself and motioned again for me to go on.

"But you would not…they had no choice." I spoke barely above a whisper now, frightened of what I was about to say, trying not to believe it, even while he stood right before me, hard, white, and motionless. "You were executed, but God would not have your soul. So you gave it to the Devil instead and you became the cursed undead, and now _he_ is your god and you serve at his right hand."

"_This_ is what they told you?" His eyes bored into my own so powerfully that I had to look away.

"_But the tyrant would not die,"_ my father would continue the story. _"As he lay dying, Drakula made a covenant—a very special promise—with the Devil, who gave him new life, and he became undead. In exchange for his soul, the Devil gave Drakula many of his own powers—great strength, speed, cunning, and ruthlessness. So long as he consumed the blood of the living he would never die. And his skin became as ice and his heart as stone; his teeth became great fangs and claws grew from his fingers. But he will never appear thus to you, Anca, and you must remember this. Always he will appear beautiful and kind and he will whisper sweetly in your ear. That is his witchcraft, so you must promise me, Anca, never look to into his eyes and never to let him speak, or else you will be lost forever."_

"Y-yes," I replied breathlessly. "You are _nosferatu, _contemptible and unclean, and everywhere you go there is death. You should not exist!"

All this time while I had been speaking I had remained standing with my back to the open door fidgeting fretfully. I pulled my fingers and wrung my hands; occasionally I took a small step forward and then another one back; I moved my feet from side to side, unable to chose a direction. "For heaven's sake, madam," the Count suddenly barked at me, "will you stop that infernal twitching! You are doing my head in!"

I froze, but his words continued to rain down on me like a volley of arrows. Little flecks of spit flew from his mouth as his eyes flashed and the vein in his forehead throbbed angrily. In that moment he looked every bit the monster my father had so often described, and I cringed in spite of myself. My hands began to shake.

"You say I broke your family's heart, highness? Well, to that I say that they had no hearts to break, that the heart that was broken was mine, and that they did it most willingly, without care or scruple! You say I am a traitor? I say that _they_ are the traitors! Villainous, greedy, power-hungry traitors! I am a _patriot_, highness; I have always been a patriot! I poured out my blood and my sweat to protect my country and they thanked me upon the edge of a sword!"

"But—" I protested. He was lying; he had to be. My eyes felt moist and my mouth ran dry. Somewhere close by I heard the sound of ragged breathing. I realized, with a shock, that it came from me.

"They cut me down like a _dog_!" he roared and I fell silent. "Their treachery runs deeper than you could _ever_ imagine!"

He broke off, gasping for breath. His hair had come loose from its clasp and fell wildly around his face, which was unnaturally ruddy and twisted into a grimace so severe that it looked as if it might break. His white teeth were bared and his hands were balled into tight fists. I wanted desperately to look away and block up my ears, but I found I could not move a muscle. Petrified, I could only gape at him with my mouth hanging open.

"I stopped you ungraciously just now," he said at last in a strained voice. He was now standing very still; his face softened for a moment. "Do forgive my outburst, it was most imprudent of me," he continued more smoothly. "Please, my dear,...sit, you look as if you've seen a ghost."

I noticed then that my knees were shaking and I sank gratefully into the chair and wrapped my arms around my chest to hold it still. The Count whirled and began pacing again, scowling.

"So this is your opinion of me…" he spat from across the room. I was now focusing intently on the swirling patterns in the rug at my feet and the little chip that was missing from the chair's gilded armrest, but his next words caught my attention.

"And your Roman pig of a lover," he sneered, "what light did he shed?" This was the first time that I allowed myself to think of Van Helsing in three days.

"Why do you hate him so?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

There was a long silence. Dracula raised a long hand to his brow, wincing as if he were in pain. After a time, he turned back towards me, glaring at me venomously, and I shrank back in my chair as he slowly advanced. And then he sighed; he dropped his hands in resignation; he lifted his face, now deeply lined with grief, to mine.

"He killed my wife," he whispered hoarsely.

"Marishka—"

"No," he growled, and then his voice broke: "my true wife. My mortal wife. He murdered my wife and he slaughtered my child. And when I…when I _objected_, he turned his knife on me."

"But why?" I gasped, aghast. I felt suddenly sick.

His expression went blank; his voice was flat: "Because she was a Turk."

"That is impossible," I stated bluntly. "Van Helsing is a only young man, not ten years older than my brother! Surely you don't expect me to believe he was alive hundreds of years ago, only a fool would swallow such a tale!"

"Only a man?" He raised his brows and I detected a glimmer of amusement in his voice. "Oh, my dear, he is so much more…"

"I don't believe you," I whispered, shaking my head vigorously, "I don't believe a single word you say." It was not difficult to believe Van Helsing to be a murderer, but it was hard to imagine my father to be a liar. The tingling in my fingers returned.

"I do not ask you to believe," he said tersely. "I ask you to listen, nothing more."

"And why should I listen to your lies?" I snapped, although I could not deny that I was more than a little intrigued.

"You will do me the courtesy of hearing me," he answered, resuming his seat on the divan, "because I have thus far allowed you the privilege of a heartbeat." He paused, the left corner of his mouth twisted upwards ever so slightly. "It would be a pity, would it not, if I were to change my mind."

I glared at him but did not utter a word in reply. He leaned back in his seat and his ghostly smirk became more substantial. "It appears we understand each other," he said; my glare darkened, "yes, it appears we understand each other quite well. Now, where to begin…

"Shall we begin like our friend master Shakespeare? 'Two households both alike in dignity?' Or shall I tell you all from the very beginning? That's really where we ought to start, don't you think? More than four hundred years…very well." He sighed with great ceremony.

"In the beginning we were Transylvanian, like you, and my father was a _boyar_, like your father's fathers. You see? We are not so very different, you and I. We lived in a fine house in Sighişoara, my father, my brothers, my mother, and myself. Yes!" he laughed bitterly, "the fiend had a mother! But do not ask me about her, for I remember only a very little. I was a boy when I went away, and when I came back she was gone. I suppose she was beautiful in the way that all children's mothers are beautiful; she had soft, cool hands and a tiny waist; she had black hair so smooth it looked polished and black eyes that shone when she laughed. In 1436, when I was five years old, my father was appointed _voivode_ of Wallachia and we all went with him to the court at Tirgoviste, and she didn't laugh anymore.

"Now, Tirgoviste—" seeing, perhaps, something in my expression, he broke off. "I suppose you are wishing me to tell you about history, no?" he asked dryly. "You desire to know what it was like in the great city at the dawn of the _Rinascimento_, as the Italians call it; you desire to know about the Dark Ages… What shall I tell you, then, _hmm_? Shall I tell you that the castles were damp and drafty, that people walked the city's winding streets through piles of excrement, that my father's fat mistress had stinking breath and rotting teeth, that the plague-ridden poor lay in heaps just outside the castle gate?" He paused but I said nothing.

"Or perhaps it is of the balls you wish to hear and the great feasts, the ladies in silks and the men in furs, the musicians in hose playing for their supper. All the bejeweled courtiers twirling and spinning like tops. And then the paintings…the great choir screens with painted reliefs gleaming with gold in the dark churches: Christ scourged with whips, Christ hanging from the Holy Cross with the leering Jews at His feet while His Blessed Mother swooned… Well, you are wasting your time," he spat, "I remember none of those things."

I shifted uneasily in my chair, realizing, to my chagrin, that I had been on the edge of my seat with my eyes wide and my jaw slack. There was something magical in the way he spoke, something dangerous and unnatural. I knew that every syllable he uttered had to be a lie, and yet I desired nothing more desperately than for him to continue. It was, I thought with a start, just as it had been when I sat hidden away in my room—_no,_ I corrected myself_, my cell_—with the Count's picture book of Palestine. I had known that those photographs had to be impossible, but I could not tear my eyes away, I could not stop myself from reaching out to touch them with my fingers. I felt my cheeks redden; my father had been truthful at least when warning me of Dracula's sorcery. As the Count eyed me with distaste, I resumed my scowl of disinterested resentment.

"Perhaps," he sighed, "that is a conversation for another time. You wish to know the truth, and the truth is what I shall tell you. I shall tell you all." By now the rain had lessened somewhat and only a few occasional drops rushing into the windowpane punctuated his words. A lighter patch in the thick, black clouds told me that the moon had already begun to sink in the sky. As his tale wore on, it would steadily shed its gauzy shroud until, somewhere towards the end, it would emerge to hang, ghostly pale and swollen, just over the black humps of houses and shame the few candles that flickered persistently in their windows, before disappearing utterly behind them.

"At Tirgoviste I became a courtier. I had a tutor who taught me to read and write and another who taught me history. I had a fencing master who taught me to fight and a horse master who taught me to joust, a music master, a dancing master, and a confessor to whom I told all my secrets. It was in Tirgoviste that I first laid eyes on Emilian Valerious."

I started at this mention of my kinsman. This was the man my father had always called "Your Elder." "Valerious the Elder." So the boy who would be Dracula had known him too.

"I remember him vividly, for while my father and his cabinet, and my brothers and myself wore clothes of many colors, Emilian Valerious dressed only in black. He wore black hose and a black velvet doublet, and always a great gold chain around his neck—a host of curling serpents, each devouring the tail of the next." Perhaps he noticed me eyeing his own somber garb, his coal black breeches, his mourner's coat, because he laughed softly. "Yes, I dare say that he taught me not a few things.

"Always he was pacing the halls of the castle at odd hours, always he was locked away with my father in his study. He was his Secretary, after all, and later _Logofǎt—_High Chancellor—he was never far from my father's shadow. I did not see him much, of course. I held little interest for him, of course; I was, after all, the second son. I would enter the army, or perhaps, had times been peaceful, the church, but there was little use for me at court. My elder brother, Mircea, was often in his company to be groomed to succeed my father, should the boyars elect him. I would have been jealous, but I knew it was _I_ who had my father's name; I thought that it was _I_, also, who had his love.

"There were two occasions upon which I saw Valerious during those years in Tirgoviste that fixed themselves more firmly than the others in my memory. The first was my induction, at the age of five, into the Emperor's chivalric company, the Order of the Dragon, to which my father already belonged."

"The Holy Order?" I asked. Was this the same brotherhood that had sent Van Helsing to us? It would not surprise me to hear that it had existed so many centuries ago. The Count looked suddenly furious.

"No indeed," he barked, "and do not, if you value your life, highness, mistake the two! The Order of the Dragon was one of the most powerful societies in Europe, created by Emperor Sigismund of Hungary himself for his protection and that of Christendom. The 'Holy Order,' as they call themselves, is a sham! They kill and destroy and say it is in the name of their God…but it is no such thing. It is all in the name of politics. Their vanity, their superstitions, their greed, and their politics. My father never did anything so ill as to invite them into our lands.

"I remember the day it happened, my father was so proud. He had been inducted into the Order himself the year that I was born, and to show his gratitude he took the name _Dracul_. He put it on all official documents and had it inscribed on all official seals. He had dragons carved into every statue and every court building, and he wore the dragon always on his person." The Count reached deep inside his shirt and drew out a large gold pendant on a golden chain. It was a dragon, rendered in exquisite detail, with a cross on its back. The dragon was curled in a circle with its on tail clenched in its jaws. _Just like the serpents on my Elder's chain_, I thought to myself, _similar,_ _but different._ Inscribed on its side was a phrase in Latin: _O quam miserecors est Deus, justus et paciens—O, how merciful is God, how just and how patient!_ When I reached to touch it with my finger he snatched it back and stuffed it hastily back under his clothes.

"It was Valerious who first put it to my father that I should be inducted into the Order of the Dragon. And I had thought it was his own idea, born of his affection for his son. But it matters little now. I remember the fortnight's journey to the Emperor's court at Buda, the jostling of the litter, and the smell of the forest and mountains. The morning after our arrival my nurse dressed me in velvet and brocade and put a fur hat on my head. My father himself took my hand and led me up hundreds of stairs to the Emperor's audience chamber. He watched with all of the Hungarian court as I swore fealty to Sigismund and to defend our Christian lands. And Valerious watched too.

"From thence I took his name and became Dracula, so that everyone would know that I was his son and that we were both beloved of the Emperor, and my child's mind thought that now it would be different, that I had earned his love. But my father's affairs had begun to sour. The Turks were gaining power and amassing armies. The Sultan wanted a stepping stone to launch his great _jihad_ and his eyes were fixed on Wallachia. Legions were dispatched by the Emperor and the other princes of Europe to fight them. Understand, Princess, I had always believed my father to be a hero, brave, strong and honorable, but when the Sultan threatened him with invasion, I learned that my father was a coward.

"Valerious was there when my father agreed to send me and my youngest brother, little Radu, as hostages to the sultan's court in Adrianople. Valerious, I learned later, had brokered the entire treaty. A treaty of mutual non-aggression, guaranteeing Turkish support of my father's rule and security of his lands in exchange for the breaking of his vow to the Order of the Dragon and his swearing a new vow of fealty to the Ottomans…Valerious knew that the Hungarians were weak. Sigismund had died and Valerious had to protect his precious ambition—my father's precious ambition. He stood behind my father as he told me that my brother and I were to pack our things and go to a new house in Turkey, that we should be good boys and do honor to him there. He did not tell us when we would return. The next morning the sultan's ambassador came and took us away across the sea."

"How old were you?" I heard myself ask. To my surprise, he answered.

"I was eleven years old; Radu was seven. When I returned, I was seventeen and a man."

"And Turkey?" Even I was startled by my newfound boldness. "What happened there?"

I immediately wished that I had not spoken. His face grew very still; it was as if all the lights in the room had gone out. "Everything," he whispered. "We arrived in Turkey and it was dark for six years."

"But I thought" I began foolishly, "the Levant was bright and full of sun, like the pictures in your book."

"Oh, it is, highness, it is!" he said angrily, "Turkey is hot and dry, and full of sunshine! I say it was dark because they kept me in the dark. Little Radu cried pitifully and they were pleased, so they took him away to the palace and made a pet of him. But I would not let them see me cry, and so I stayed in the dark. Did Valerious know, I wonder, what would happen to us at Egregoz and Adrianople? I say that he did, he knew that we would be beaten and abused, that we would be frightened, that we would see things no child should see and he did not care! They whipped me when I was insolent, so I learned to bear pain, and when they starved me for my stubbornness I learned to bear hunger. They wished to make a Janissery of me, you see, to make me a member of the sultan's guard—a soldier of Allah. They liked what they had seen, they said. They liked my spirit and my fortitude. They put a sword in my hand and told me that I was beautiful.

"Have you ever seen a man die, Anna my pet? I have seen hundreds. A beheaded body will twitch for almost a minute after it ceases to live, did you know that? I learned how to break a man without leaving a single mark on his body by beating the soles of his feet. The human body, my love, will do the most extraordinary things under torture… For my education they took me to executions, interrogations, and so at Adrianople I came to know death intimately. There, enough, I will speak no more of it."

I was stunned. My eyes inexplicably filled with tears; I was imagining him as no one else had ever imagined him: as a child. I pictured him alone, small and frightened in a dark, strange place. It was his valet, Joszi, that I saw, and at last I understood.

The Count sat stiller and more silent than the grave. After a time, he sighed and covered his face with his great hands. When he drew them away again, his face was once more clear and smooth and free of sorrow. Then he continued.

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**Ok u can has updatez. Now I can has REVIEWZ?? ;p **(Seriously a **huge** thank you to all those who review, each and every one of your reviews has made my day. You guys make it all worth it.)

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**A/N:**

Like I said above, this chapter is split into two parts due to length. The continuation picks up literally right where this one leaves off. I'm still finishing up part two, but I hope to have it posted in a week or so. Until then, some thoughts…

Is it just me, or is Boris Valerious über-creepy? I'm telling you, dudes in eye-patches are usually up to no good.

I have _vastly_ simplified the history of Transylvania in this chapter (and the next one too). Vlad III was never _voivode_ of Transylvania, although he frequently invaded that territory in hopes of securing a power base there (and was indeed born there). His kingdom remained Wallachia, but since Stoker and all those following him have relocated Dracula to Transylvania, I've tried to give him as much of a connection as possible to the "land beyond the woods." Good old Wikipedia will give you a better idea of the power dynamics in the Romanian principalities during that time.

_Logofǎt _is a real word, I swear. It was the title given to the Chancellor in medieval Romania.

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**Thank You:**

ForeverACharmedOne, bsblover17, kriittiko, Celtic Aurora, Shoysrock, annadracula, chase young's daughter, Matrino, VintageLyre, Bobby Rae, Stacy Vorosco, quik-SOT-ik, Lord of Fantasy, Elenna Starlight, Elwyndra, Lorien Urbani, Clara, idrial, VampireElfWitch, Feysera, Serenity Blossom, pheobep3

I'll do proper thank yous next time, you all rock my socks!


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